Let Winterlight Come
by fyre
Summary: Of Western Stars universe With neutral’s authorization. Harry leaves Moor House for his first year at Hogwarts.
1. CHAPTER I: A Letter to Three Wizards

"Let Winterlight Come"

by fyre

FEEDBACK: asayyar2118hotmail.com or press review button below.

TEASER: [Of Western Stars universe] With neutral's authorization and approval to play in her universe. Harry leaves Moor House for his first year at Hogwarts.

TIME LINE/CATEGORY: Set in neutral's _Of Western Stars_ universe. The story arch is as follows:

* * *

Of Western Stars by neutral

Clawtracks of a Star by neutral

Let Winterlight Come by fyre

Half of Dueling Range by neutral

Good Intentions by neutral

* * *

A link to neutral's stories can be found in my favorite authors' section on ff.net as well as a link to her own website and her email address.

RATING: PGish Violence, some language, mentions of abuse.

DISCLAIMER: No major plot lines, characters, setting, or major events alluded to in this story are mine in any way. Some of the words are pulled straight from the movies or from JRK novels for the sake of continuity and are NOT mine. The background information and history that differs from JRK books belongs to neutral. No money is being made off this story. Please ask author before reproducing or posting anywhere else.

SPECIAL THANKS TO: neutral who without her permission, her encouragement, her constant source of inspiration and writing this would not have been possible.

NOTES: I wrote this piece with neutral's permission to play in her universe and with her wonderful characters. Every chapter, idea, plot, and take on characters in the universe was discussed and approved by neutral before posting. I apologize in advance for the grammar and spelling mistakes that got by me. Some of the odd sentence structure is purposeful for effect, even if it violates basic principles of grammar. Just go with it.

* * *

CHAPTER I: A Letter to Three Wizards

* * *

It started with a letter.

This was in no way an unexpected event. While Owl Post to Moor House was a fairly rare event due to the sheer number of wards on the unplottable estate, it was by no means impossible. For certain owls from certain people the wards allowed access. Post was delivered in the early morning into the waiting basket by the kitchen window. Later on when various members of the household finally came down for breakfast (or lunch), the letters would be noticed and opened.

This particular letter however, was expected-- more than expected it was dreaded.

Dreaded so much that it produced a miracle.

Sirius Black was up before dawn.

Sirius Black was up before dawn, dressed, alert, and standing next to the empty basket for post watching the lightening sky.

With omnioculars.

Remus paused at the kitchen door, blinking several times to ensure he was in fact _awake._

"Sirius--?" the werewolf asked tentatively.

"Shhhhh!"

Remus hurried forward to stare out the window, trying to figure out what his friend was looking for. He was impatiently batted away by a free hand.

"Padfoot, what in Merlin's name are you doing? Is something wrong with the wards?" Lupin drew his wand from his robe pocket unconsciously, his voice rising. "Did Dumbledore send a message? What is going _on_!?" he demanded.

"Owl," Sirius muttered lowly.

"Owl? Owl? What owl? Let me see." Remus made a grab for the omnioculars.

"No! Moony, stop!"

The next few moments led to a brief yet totally humiliating schoolyard tug of war that ended with a very surprised Remus on the floor and Padfoot still scanning the skies. Sirius hadn't even stopped to laugh, tease, or gloat over his victory.

This was serious, Moony realized. Pun intended.

Just before he was going to resort to drastic measures like ice down the back of Black's robes there was a distant hoot that broke the moment of mischief.

"Ah-HA! I knew you'd come!" Sirius crowed. "Just couldn't resist could you? Oh, noooo! Not wanted, not wanted at _all_, but still!-- You just _had_ to come, just had to invade and intrude, and _bother_ . . ." He set down his omnioculars and drawing his own wand he pointed it intently at the silent flyer heading straight for the window.

"Padfoot! _Sirius_!" Lupin yelled trying to get his friend's attention. He grabbed onto Black's wand arm and yanked it and him completely around and away from the window. "It's just an owl! If the owl got though the wards it's from someone we know, therefore it need not be summarily exploded in mid-flight. Sirius! Are you listening?"

Before Sirius could answer there was the flutter of near silent wings and a letter dropped in the post basket.

If the owl expected a treat or even a drink of water it was sadly mistaken.

With a howl of "NOOOO!" Sirius dived for the letter, not even bothering to drag his arm free of his friend's grasp. Remus, forgetting to let go was pulled along for the ride.

Both of them hit the counter's edge with bruising force, knocking the wind out of them, sending them tumbling to the kitchen floor, but not before Sirius had the letter firm in hand.

Amid the tangle of limbs and wands and robes, Remus, gasping for air caught sight of the familiar emerald ink and spidery hand.

Mr. H. Potter

Bedroom on the Second Floor

East Wing, Moor House

"It's Harry's Hogwarts letter!" the werewolf said with a relieved laugh. Straightening himself out he got to his knees and reached for the letter. "And you were going to shoot the owl out of the sky. Ha! I didn't realize it was coming today."

Padfoot, however, was not smiling nor was he going to let Moony touch the letter.

"Padfoot," Remus said slowly with a growing sense of unease "that's _Harry's_ letter."

"I _know_ that," Sirius said with a snort, fingers carefully gripping either side of it with enough force to stretch out the envelope to near tearing.

Remus' amber eyes widened. _Sirius knew. Sirius knew the letter was coming and he was going to BLAST the owl out of the sky. Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no._

Cautiously, as if speaking to a wild animal he held out his hand and spoke soothingly. "Padfoot, why don't you give me Harry's letter? You don't want to tear it. It's the first letter Harry's ever had; he'll be so excited to open it. Won't that be fun to watch? Just . . . give me the letter, Padfoot."

Sirius shook his head, scowling he scrambled to his feet.

"Sirius . . ." Moony said warningly.

"No! He doesn't have to go if he doesn't _want_ to! For Merlin's sake, he's only _six_ years ol--"

"Nearly eleven! Harry. Is. Nearly. Eleven. Years. Old. Sirius!" Feeling the need to tear at his hair, Moony restrained himself and stood trying to speak calmly. "Anyway, isn't this _Harry's _decision? Harry _gets to decide_, isn't that what you said? I thought that going to school, actually meeting children his own age, and going out into the world was important. Think of how much fun he'll have. Remember our Hogwarts years?"

"Yes! Yes I do remember. Do you, Moony? All those crazy, _dangerous_ stunts we pulled? All the near death experiences in the Forbidden Forest we told Harry about? Taunting Slytherins? Infirmary visits!?" Padfoot exclaimed waving the letter around for emphasis.

Rational, be rational and calm, Moony prompted himself. "Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the whole wizarding world, Padfoot! Besides, Harry is a very mature, level headed, responsible boy. With the staff and Albus looking after him what could possibly go wrong?"

"DON'T SAY THAT!" Sirius howled. "Have you lost your MIND?! Now you've JINXED it!"

Seeing that now the letter was in mortal danger, Lupin abandoned all pretense of reasoning and lunged.

* * *

Harry padded downstairs, readjusting his glasses as he went. His godfather and Moony were already awake and kicking. The noise had woken him and he had decided to venture down and see what was going on.

"STOP! STOP! Don't you DARE, SIRIUS!"

"Mister Padfoot-- Ug! --would like to tell Mister Moony to-- oof! --to BUGGER OFF!"

"If you rip that-- ow!"

"Leggo!"

"I'll hex you if you-- ack! PADFOOT!"

"ARG! Stoppit, Moony! Just let me . . . No, no, no! No tickling, _no tickling_!"

"I swear I will! I swear I'll-- I'll . . . GET OUT FROM UNDER THERE!"

Peering around the kitchen door Harry was surprised to see that the usual verbal teasing had degenerated into a wrestling match on the kitchen floor. Padfoot was halfway under the kitchen table trying to reach something stuck between the table legs while Moony was trying to yank him out. He'd never seen the two Marauders get like this without one or both of them in their animal forms.

Catching sight of the parchment Harry simply held out his hand and envelope flew into his grasp. In the sudden deathly silence that filled the kitchen Harry noted the Hogwarts seal on the back and flipped it over to determine which of his guardians it belonged to.

He nearly dropped the letter when he saw the name across the front.

"Me?" He squeaked in surprise. Harry looked anxiously at his godfather. "There's a letter for _me_? Did I-- Did I do something . . ."

Hastily both men extricated themselves from under the table, bumping heads and elbows as they hurried. Sirius slid to his knees before his godson, placing two comforting hands on the boy's thin shoulders. "You've done nothing wrong, Harry," he said feverently. "_Nothing_."

Moony smoothed back the child's messy hair and smiled. "It's good news. Why don't you open it?"

Harry looked at his godfather for confirmation. A long moment passed which was filled with a warning growl from the werewolf. Sirius forced a half smile and nodded.

Carefully, Harry broke the seal and pulled out two pieces of parchment.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(_Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted

at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please

find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no

later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

_Minerva McGonagall_

Deputy Headmistress

"It's my Hogwarts letter," Harry breathed, green eyes glowing with excitement. "I got accepted. I really got accepted."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Of_ course _you got accepted. You've been down on the list since before you were born. Forget to accept my godson?" Sirius ruffled the black hair fondly. "They wouldn't dare."

Harry smiled and held out the letter to show to his guardians.

"Well since the owl is still here, we should send your reply right off," Moony said.

For an instant, Harry looked prepared to do just that when suddenly a pensive look came down over his features. He ducked his head, his fringe falling into his eyes and fingered the letter cautiously. Sirius opened his mouth, ready no doubt with assurances that Harry need not go, need never leave Moor House when Remus shot him a death glare that would make evil wizards cringe and back off.

Crouching down beside the boy, Remus placed a hand on his small back. "Harry, this is your home, it always will be. We would be happy if you stay or if you chose to go. We never want to be rid of you. I'm sure even if you tried, Padfoot here," he said nudging Sirius with an elbow "would hunt you down and I'd be right beside him. But your parents went to Hogwarts, _we_," he continued glancing over at his friend to ensure that he was not scowling or disagreeing for the moment "went to Hogwarts and it was wonderful. I made some of the best friends in my whole life while I was there. I learned so much. There was Quidditch and dueling and spells and a huge library and so many magical creatures and objects. It was absolutely brilliant. There's a whole wizarding world like that, out there. And you need to see it to believe it. But that doesn't me we don't want you around. We _always_ want you around, no matter what you choose. Do you understand, Harry?"

There was a long moment of quite. Both Remus and Sirius held their breath before Harry, at last, nodded carefully.

Letting out a relieved sigh that the horrible doubt had passed for his godson, Padfoot brushed the boy's fringe away from his eyes and lifted his chin so that Harry was no longer looking at the floor.

"Let's see the list, huh?" Sirius said taking the second sheet from Harry's hand. He stood, stroking his chin as he perused the contents of the paper. "Hmmm. Cauldron, books, robes and such, potions supplies, scale, telescope, wand. Owl, toad, or cat. Yuck, cats," he said with a shudder, watching out of the corner of his eye as the familiar reaction to cats was greeted by a grin from his godson. "No broom," he continued absently and then blinked and backed up. "No broom? No broom? That's, that's . . ."

"Sensible," suggested Remus.

"Inhuman," Sirius contradicted firmly. "Harry not allowed to fly or play Quidditch for a whole _year_?"

"First years don't get to play Quidditch, Padfoot. Why would I need my broom?" Harry asked.

"Yes, well . . ." Sirius cleared his throat, ignoring the smirking look from the werewolf who took the opportunity to mouth the word _mature_ at him. "Anyway. Books. Tons of books. I like books as much as the next person, but there's nothing _really_ interesting in the whole lot. Have to supplement that with some more challenging and interesting books when we go and get these."

"I have lots of books already," Harry reminded his godfather, touching the corner of the parchment as he stood on tiptoe to try and read the list. Sirius handed the list back to his godson who peered at it curiously. "I have the Standard Book of Spells series, and I think I have the potion text. Transfiguration, history, theory . . . I've got those too."

"Well then, we only need to get the new ones, unless you want a completely new set of books."

Harry began shaking his head at his godfather's words. The boy always found it embarrassing to have anything bought for him even after years of both of his guardians trying to spoil him rotten. (Not that Remus admitted it of course; Sirius on the other hand was very proud of the fact that he would buy Harry a small country if he only asked.)

"I know that Sirius scribbled notes all over his old textbooks, not to mention the unflattering caricatures of rival house members," Remus put in with amusement.

"No," Harry said hurriedly. "I like having his books. The notes don't bother me."

"They might be different from the more current editions though, Harry," Padfoot warned slightly put out he wasn't going to be able to buy out Flourish and Blotts for the boy, getting him the best of everything.

"Actually, Padfoot, they've cut out a lot of the more offensive and difficult magic altogether. We live in different times now."

That was certainly true. Both Remus and Sirius had tried in vain to shield Harry from the past-- Voldemort, Death Eaters and the like. Events just after Harry's ninth birthday had dragged the three of them into a war zone where Harry had performed on a field of battle better than most Aurors. Neither of the adult wizards liked to think of the magic and curses Harry was forced to use in protecting his family. It had taken many months to recover the boy's spark; even now something had irrevocably changed in the child. For all his innocence and sheltered existence from society and other wizards, Harry had seen and fought as a soldier in a world gone mad.

Shaking dark thoughts, Moony continued. "You'll be well ahead of the game, Harry, even if you weren't on . . . what? Fourth year books now?"

"Seventh," Harry corrected as he tried to pull his attention away from the magical letter. The silence of his guardians finally caused him to raise his head and he colored slightly under their shocked expressions. "Well, I'm on seventh in theory," he added anxiously. "I don't know about in practice really. I mean, I don't even have a wand yet."

"Seventh, huh?" Sirius said proudly with a smile. "Who needs Hogwarts?"

Remus shot the Animagus a death glare. He was getting in some good practice with those this morning.

"Do you want me to stay?" Harry asked.

Silence once again filled the kitchen. Remus cursed internally; he'd hoped Harry wouldn't ask that question. Everything now hinged on Sirius' answer. Moony knew with the same certainly that the sun would rise and set, that the moon would wax and wane, that whatever Sirius wanted, Harry would do. Harry was so grateful to his godfather, so thankful that he thought it was his job to give back anything and everything to the man. No matter how hard they had both tried to convince Harry that it was the other way around, that they owed _him, _they had never truly succeeded.

Sirius reached out and smoothed his godson's unruly hair away from his large eyes. "I want you to see where we all met," he replied softly. "I want you to see where your mum and dad and Moony and me went to school. I want you to play Quidditch, make friends, play pranks, and then send us owls home. I want you home for Christmas and Easter and summer with lots of stories for me and this old man here."

Remus scowled at his friend. "You're the one living vicariously through Harry, not me." He looked back at the boy, his expression softening. "Well, Harry?"

Green eyes met amber growing dazed for a long moment, seeing something far distant.

"Harry?" Sirius asked quietly turning the boy's cheek so that their eyes met, though if Harry actually _saw_ his godfather Remus would be very much surprised.

The werewolf held his breath and waited for Harry to speak. It had been months since Harry had last had a dream that was a premonition while awake or asleep; practicing magic stopped the outbursts of raw clairvoyant power.

Blinking green eyes, Harry's expression cleared. He met his godfather's gaze squarely. "I need to go," Harry said with a certainty that was unnerving. "It's . . . important to go."

Pasting on a bright strained smile Sirius nodded in agreement. "Well that settles that; you're going to Hogwarts."

Remus breathed an audible sigh of relief. Thank Merlin _that_ was over.

"Of course," Padfoot added cheerfully as he steered his godson towards the dining room and breakfast "if it gets dangerous or you don't like it or anything _happens_ we'll come along and bring you right back home with us where it's _safe_."

Moony's shoulders sank upon hearing that pronouncement and he refrained from yanking his hair out in frustration. _One step forward, two steps back. Gods, this was going to be one hell of a year._

From atop the Icing Box the school owl hooted for attention. Scrambling for parchment, quill, and ink Remus sent back Harry's acceptance before Sirius found some way to dispose of the creature by _accident_ or something.


	2. CHAPTER II: Breakfast at Diagon Alley

NOTES: Thank you for all the kind reviews. I'm so glad that you think I've managed to capture the spirit of neutral's works. It is high praise indeed. Once again I'd like to reiterate that Harry Potter does not belong to me. The _Of Western Stars_ universe belongs to neutral who gave me permission and approval prior to writing and posting everything in this story.

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CHAPTER II: Breakfast at Diagon Alley

* * *

Even barely an hour past dawn, Diagon Alley was filled with witches and wizards. The buildings on either side of the narrow cobbled street teetered almost dangerously above the throng of people intent on making purchases. Harry always thought that all it would take was one well placed concussive spell and the buildings would fall over like dominos.

He was sticking close to Padfoot, hood on his cloak drawn up as it was lightly drizzling. They had arrived early because Sirius wanted to have breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron and make a day out of their shopping trip. These plans had been sprung on his godson when the Marauder had found Harry looking though order catalogues with his school list.

"Sacrilege!" he said in mock horror. "If you're going to Hogwarts we are doing things right, that means Diagon Alley for supplies, not owl post!"

So here they were, entering the Leaky Cauldron, the two of them. Remus was to join them later; he'd been out on one of his free-lance slaying assignments over in Ireland and didn't want to travel back in this dismal weather at night.

Sirius pulled off his hood upon entering and was instantly recognized if the sudden silence was anything to go by. Harry didn't move to shed his cloak.

They were all staring at his godfather; he could hear their whispers, see their not so hidden pointed fingers. People were openly gaping as Sirius shepherded them to a corner booth and motioned for a menu.

"All right, Harry?" Padfoot whispered, blue eyes filled with worry.

Harry hated it when Padfoot got worried. Unfortunately Padfoot got worried all the time. But this time there was something Harry could do to help.

Bravely, not wanting Sirius to be gawked at and have to listen to hissed exclamations of "_mass murdered_" and "_Death Eater scum_" all through breakfast he pulled back the hood of his damp cloak, deciding to give the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron something else to talk about.

"Blimey! It's true!"

"Look! 'E does have Harry Potter with him!"

"I thought the Prophet said he's been killed by Black."

"Lookit! Lookit! The famous scar."

Sirius' growl filled the young wizard's ears and one large comforting arm pulled him close to his godfather's side. Harry took some solace in the familiar sound. _They're just words_, he scolded himself firmly. _Words don't hurt. Besides, best to get used to it. Hogwarts will be full of people like them._

And no Padfoot beside him.

Stop it! Professor Dumbledore will be there and so will Professor McGonagall. You can't be all alone surrounded by dozens of children your own age.

But even that thought gave pause because the last child that Harry had any contact with was Dudley. Children at school and on Remus' football team never spoke with Harry because of Dudley. _What if it wasn't because of Dudley that he was ignored? What if there was something **wrong** with him?_

No, he'd be all right! Hogwarts was where his parents went, where Padfoot and Moony went, where Professor Dumbledore was. It would be all right.

"What would you like for breakfast then, Harry?" Sirius' voice intruded.

He looked up from his clenched hands and saw a flustered man hovering at their table, ready to take down their order. The man was trying not to stare and doing a better job than most.

"Pancakes?" Harry's near whisper filled the room as everyone had stopped talking just to hear him speak.

"Pancakes it is," their host said almost jovially. "Eggs? Sausage? Bacon?"

Harry shook his head, fighting off a shudder and a roll of nausea. "No sausage." He took a deep breath steadying himself. "Scrambled eggs please and some bacon."

The bartender turned waiter didn't seem to be paying attention let alone writing down the order. He looked almost teary eyed. Harry wondered what could possibly be wrong with his order when the man put his hand on his chest and _bowed_.

"I'd just like to say welcome back, Mr. Potter. Welcome back. They'd been rumors you see. It's so good that you're here."

Harry didn't know what to say. Suddenly people were moving, getting up out of their chairs intent to come over and greet him as well.

But a cool, sharp voice cut through it all like a knife. Sirius stood and everyone took a step back and hurriedly sat back down. "That will be all, Tom," Sirius said slowly handing back the menu to the bartender.

"Of course," the man said almost apologetically. "Right, coming right up, Sirius."

The Marauder took a moment to peruse the room. No one would meet his eye. Satisfied he sat down and turned his attention back to his godson who sat now with his head bowed, trying to hide beneath his wild black hair.

He ruffled the messy hair in a comforting manner. "Hey, we'll have breakfast and then we'll find Moony and go looking for the stuff on your list. Perhaps I might have time for some birthday shopping while I'm here," Sirius said with teasing nonchalance. "Someone's got birthday soon. I wonder what Moony will like, old as he is. A cane? Some false teeth? What do you think?"

Harry smiled and glanced at his godfather out of the corner of his eye, raising his head a little. He knew he was being teased; his own birthday was only a week away while Moony's was not till mid October. "I think--"

"Sirius Black!" A booming voice interrupted as a giant shadow covered them both. Harry looked up and up and saw a huge bearded face staring down at them both. A massive club of a hand reached out and Sirius shook it happily. Harry relaxed. This must be a friend then.

"Hagrid! What are you doing here? Hogwarts not keeping you busy enough?"

The giant man shrugged and smiled. "Jest here ter pick up somethin' for Professor Dumbledore. Waitin' for Gringotts ter open. Gotta get somethin' very 'portant out of Vault 713," he said in a lowered voice. "Hogwarts business yeh understand." He turned his attention suddenly to the boy sitting beside Black, staring at him in half awe. "Blimey! This must be Harry then! Lookit how you've grown." He held out the massive hand again, which Harry kneeled up on the seat to take. "Rubeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper and Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts."

"It's nice to meet you," Harry said softly. He knew this man from the dozens of stories told by his godfather and Moony. Even Dumbledore had spoken of him when they had had their lessons together over the years.

Sirius motioned for the man to sit and Hagrid pulled up a nearby chair, not even attempting to squeeze his massive frame into the booth. "Here with yer Hogwarts letter, then?"

Harry nodded.

Hagrid smiled, vastly pleased. "Knew we'd be seeing yeh soon. Haven't seen yeh since you were a baby, y'know. Still got yer mother's eyes."

Feeling like he knew the man already, Harry sat back down next to Padfoot listening intently as the two of them spoke of Hogwarts, the Ministry, and Professor Dumbledore. Sirius looked happy, breakfast was on its way, and Hagrid's looming shape even sitting down blocked them from unfriendly eyes.

Harry relaxed next to his godfather, hand finding his letter in his cloak pocket and fingering it with renewed excitement. Perhaps today's outing wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

They had said their goodbyes to Hagrid soon after visiting the wizarding bank and then headed off to get Harry's school robes.

Sirius said they had ought to get the boring stuff out of the way early which is why Harry now found himself standing on a footstool in a fitting room in the back of the robe shop.

Harry shook the sleeves that hung well past the tips of his fingers up and down, flapping them idly. The boy on the fitting stool next to him stared at him out of the corner of his eye, eyebrow raising. Harry flapped the sleeves a couple more times and then stopped, waiting, trying not to fidget while Madam Malkin puttered about in the storeroom for something or other. In the front of the robe store he could hear Sirius and then suddenly Remus' voice and smiled knowing that the werewolf had caught up with them at last.

"Hogwarts too?" The other boy asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Harry blinked in surprise as he realized that the boy with the pale pointed face was addressing him and waiting for him to answer back. "Yes."

"You're a bit short for eleven, aren't you?" the other remarked off handedly. "I got my letter last week along with a couple of other schools, but I decided on Hogwarts because my father is on the Board of Governors."

Harry couldn't think of a single response to that statement.

"Even so, he says I still can't take a broom during my first year. Can you imagine? No broom at all. Have you got your own broom?"

"Yes," said Harry tentatively.

"Play Quidditch?"

Ah, this was firmer territory for conversation. "Two man usually."

"I'm going to be on my House team," the other boy said with absolute confidence. "Know what House you'll be in?"

"I thought-- I thought we don't get to know until the first night there."

"Well," the boy said backing up a bit "No one really _knows_ till then, but I know I'll be in Slytherin. All our family have been Slytherin. I can't imagine being in another House. What about your family?"

"They were in Gryffindor mostly."

"So they were both of wizard blood then," the pale boy said with satisfaction. "I don't think they should let the others into Hogwarts. You know, the ones that don't come from all wizarding families."

This was something new. Harry worried his lip as he thought of his muggleborn mother. _Why would someone want to keep her out of Hogwarts just because she was muggleborn? _"Why shouldn't they?"

"What?" The boy's shocked face was the first non-practiced expression Harry had seen during this whole odd conversation.

"Why? Why shouldn't they be allowed to study magic?"

"Be-because their parents are muggles," he sputtered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"That would only be a problem if their _parents_ went to school," Harry reasoned. "They're wizards, otherwise they wouldn't get letters in the first place."

The other boy struggled for a moment in silence to find an answer. "Well, they're not as good as purebloods."

And obviously he is one, Harry realized, slightly disappointed that the first person he had met his own age reminded him of his cousin. "Why not?" he asked calmly.

"Because!" he snapped. "Don't you know _anything?_ They just _aren't_."

"Lots of really powerful witches and wizards both good and bad were not from wizarding parents."

"We've been wizards a lot longer than they have," he said with a superior air.

"So?"

"So? So?!" For a moment Harry watched as the other boy looked ready to explode in frustration before he suddenly calmed and looked at Harry intently, as if just now seeing him for the first time as a person he was actually curious to know and not just an audience to talk at. "You're very odd, you know that. What's your surname?"

Before Harry had to face the agony of answering, Madam Malkin returned and finished pinning his robe before lifting it over his head, telling him he was all done, and turning her attention to the other boy. Harry met the boy's eyes in the mirror briefly before hurrying out to join Sirius and Remus.

They paid for the robes and headed back outside. The spots of rain had let up and the Alley seemed to swell with people. They picked up a new cauldron (Lily's had been lost that night long ago on Halloween and James's hadn't even managed to survive Hogwarts) and shiny new brass scales. Moony had already given him his old telescope and Padfoot had miraculously unearthed his own crystal phials, unbroken, from the attic several days ago.

Leaving Flourish and Blotts with what books Harry's extensive inherited-from-Padfoot library was missing, as well as some extra books that caught the eye of all three wizards, Remus suddenly propelled Harry towards Ollivander's with a handful of galleons snatched from Padfoot.

"Harry, you go on and get your wand. We'll join you in a moment, all right?"

Harry looked over his shoulder feeling slightly anxious at being separated from his guardians, but then remembered "Moony's" birthday and nodded. Sometimes he wondered how Remus had ever kept anything a secret when he was so very bad at making up believable excuses. Padfoot was much better at it.

"Moony!" Padfoot hissed, his eyes never leaving the cloaked form of his godson as Harry made his way to the wand shop.

"Let him go alone," Remus insisted.

"But-"

Grabbing his friend by the arm, the werewolf lead him over to Eeylops Owl Emporium and its sister shop next door, Magical Menagerie. "I thought you wanted to get Harry an owl for his birthday next week."

"An owl and a broom," Sirius corrected as they passed Quality Quidditch Supply where the Nimbus 2000 was displaced prominently to drooling aficionados of the sport.

"Harry doesn't want a new broom. He likes the one he has."

"It's old," Sirius complained.

"It was the first birthday present he ever got. He loves his Cirrus 7. Besides he isn't even allowed to _bring_ a broom to Hogwarts. Come on, owl. Now." he said firmly.

"But Harry . . ."

"Will be fine," Remus sighed in exasperation. "Come on!"

* * *

A bell rang as Harry entered the shop. Around him in long shelves were stacks of long thin boxes. Harry took in a deep breath, feeling the magic of hundreds of different wand cores float around him. Outside the milky window glass Diagon Alley seemed a world away. The absolute silence of the shop was a welcome relief. The magic made it feel like home.

"Good morning," a soft voice said. Harry didn't jump in surprise; as quiet as the man had been he'd felt his presence walking through the eddies and current of the wands disturbing their flow if only a little.

"Hello," he replied politely.

"I've been expecting you Mr. Potter. You have your mother's eyes and your father's features. As I remember every wand I've ever sold, I remember them." The man suddenly whipped out a tape measure and asked "Which is your wand hand, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked down at his hands, remembering involuntarily the last time he'd picked up a wand, the feeling of utter completion, singing of power in his veins. Fighting back a shudder he clenched them tight reminding himself firmly that there was _no blood, no blood_. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I've used both."

Harry looked up, meeting the old man's eyes which were wide with shock and pined him there with his own. "You remember every wand sold. Did you sell a wand to Voldemort?" he asked.

Mr. Ollivander looked visibly taken aback. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to say I did. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Phoenix feather. Only one other wand has a core with a feather from that particular phoenix."

"Show it to me?"

For a moment Ollivander looked ready to protest, to deny the demand outright, but he must have seen something in the boy's eyes that made him bite his tongue. He put aside his tape measure and walked into the back of the store. He returned holding a box near identical to all others on the shelves. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple," he said almost reverently as he opened the box.

Harry stared at the wand lying within and reached out with both hands and lifted it up, examining it close. Taking a deep breath he gripped it with his left hand and reached for the steadily burning core in the center.

His eyes closed involuntarily and for a moment he was back there, back on that horrible fallow pitch at a crumbled ruins of Hogwarts, a twin wand to this in his hand, screams and hexes and curses filling the air that pulsed with the vivid green light of the killing curse. Green like new grass, green like his eyes, green like his nightmares . . .

Pushing the memory aside violently, Harry felt the warmth of the wand fill him and he let down all the self made barriers to his own magic that Dumbledore had helped him fashion when he was younger.

A wand, theory books had explained, was there to focus and give control to a wizard's power. He let his own magic feed back into the wand curious to see if he would no longer need the barriers that curbed the tide of his power now that he was old enough to have his wand.

The wand burned in his hand, shivering and trembling like a thing alive. Harry felt it twitch beneath his fingers, as if it were struggling to keep up with the sheer amount of energy he was letting loose. For a moment, with a flash of disappointment, he thought the burning core would fizzle and die out, but then it rallied and Harry would swear he heard a bird's sweet trill in his ears.

He opened his eyes and found the dark dank shop awash with golden light and red orange sparkles floating and flickering like flame in the air. Mr. Ollivander stood by, mouth gaping wide in shock.

Well, thought Harry. _I was right. This is my wand. No other could have even managed that much magic. Except His_. He looked down at the holly wood that was rich and lustrous. It had potential. It would take some work to get the wand to respond properly. It would take practice and coaxing of the phoenix core to keep up with power honed by years of practice with wandless magic. But despite the difficulty, Harry knew he could make this wand be a true equal if not superior to its brother. And he knew there was no way he could let on at Hogwarts that he could do most magic without incantations or wands faster and with much better precision. The wand was necessary at the moment; Harry hoped one day it would have adapted enough to actually be useful as more than just a ruse to hide his talent.

Finding his voice Mr. Ollivander quoted the price which Harry dutifully paid.

"Would you like me to wrap it for you Mr. Potter?" the shopkeeper asked staring at the wand in Harry's hand, but making no move to take it from him.

Harry fingered the holly and after a moment shook his head. "Do you have any of the wand wrist holsters in dragon hide?" he asked eagerly thinking of the one Sirius wore customarily on his arm.

"A dueler then?" Ollivander nodded, all business. "Which arm? Left or right?"

Harry bit his lip tossing the wand over to his right hand absently, catching it perfectly, mimicking the move that would bring the wand from his wrist to his hand. He tried it with his left hand, and then with his right again. "Right arm," he said at last.

Mr. Ollivander was unable to find one small enough so he asked Harry to wait while he made some adjustments to the smallest side they had so that it would fit his skinny arm comfortably.

"You may adjust it as you grow, Mr. Potter," he said as he watched Harry with a flick of his wrist draw his wand with a speed even the best duelers would be envious of.

Harry nodded, and reholstered his wand, pulling down his sleeve noting happily that only the most careful eye would notice the holster was even there, even the phoenix core was well shielded by the dragon hide. Harry was paying the sickles for his second purchase when the door burst open and Sirius and Remus entered.

"Have your wand, Harry?" Padfoot asked after nodding his greeting to Mr. Ollivander.

"Yes," he said drawing it to show his godfather. Sirius reached out and touched it gingerly; the power radiating off the wand was strong. He pulled his fingers away as they began to burn.

"Ouch," he said shaking his hand in mild pain. "Phoenix core. Not too common. Very powerful."

Mr. Ollivander snorted. "And you Mr. Black should know about unusual wands. Oak, twelve-and-three-quarter-inches, hair from a Grim and a werewolf."

Sirius drew his wand with the same dueler's move Harry displayed and twirled it once around his fingers. He smirked at the wandmaker. "Yes and I'm quite happy with it."

That was an understatement. After having his original wand snapped, Sirius had custom ordered this one from Ollivander and had sent him many furious letters detailing the specifications he wanted for his new wand. It had nearly driven the wandmaker batty with frustration. But Sirius had a truly unique wand and he never let it out of his sight, he even slept with it under his pillow. It was very good for curses, hexes, and Sirius's favorite subject: transfiguration.

"Come on then, Harry, lots more to do," Sirius said leading the boy out of the wand shop

Harry put away his wand and drew out his list. "I think I've got everything."

"Ah, but there is still the Quidditch store to browse through; that will take a good few hours. We must also have a nice healthy lunch of ice cream. Then there is the Menagerie, as well as the Confectionary. You wouldn't want Moony here to go through chocolate withdrawal, would you?"

"Now wait just a minute. I am not a chocolate addict!" Remus protested.

Sirius shook his head sadly. "Denial. So pathetic. We must cater to his problem for now, Harry, and wean him off it slowly. It's our duty to our friend."

"We should also stop by the joke shop. I don't want you to go through joke withdrawal either, Padfoot," Harry said innocently.

Sirius was stuck without a comeback for that one and was forced to tolerate Moony's teasing for the rest of the afternoon.


	3. CHAPTER III: Mr Potter Goes to Hogwarts

NOTES: **Sárkány**- thanks for your kind words. Yes, this story is going to be very detailed, not just echoing first book if I can help it. In rough draft form it is already 137 pages long. This chapter is a little short, sorry! BUT the fourth one is nearly through minor revision. **TeeDee**- I've impressed another neutral fan, a very had thing to do since she is a master. Thank you! **NightSpear, Phoenix Flight, Rebecca**- glad you like Harry's character; I had to work hard to get him just right. Enjoy this chapter too

* * *

CHAPTER III: Mr. Potter Goes to Hogwarts

* * *

"Today's the day!"

Sirius scowled and sat down with a thump, ignoring his happy friend.

Remus continued on unabated. "Today is the day Harry starts Hogwarts, the best seven years of his life. Spells, pranks, new friends . . ." Remus trailed off as his forced cheeriness fell flat. The werewolf continued to set the table with slow deliberate movements. He couldn't stop himself from dwelling on morbid thoughts.

This is the last breakfast we'll have together for months. This is the last morning with Harry darting between the kitchen and dining room. This is the last day he'll be here to tease Sirius awake, to try and help with breakfast, to listen to us two old Marauders bicker, to hug us good morning . . .

His thoughts faded off as a rumbling sound filled his consciousness. Blinking his eyes several times (_Not to force back tears! There were no tears in his eyes. None_!) he realized it was Padfoot's growls that filled the dining room.

Remus swatted Sirius upside the head. "Stop that."

Sirius responded with his full blown I'm-A-Deadly-Grim-Here-To-Foretell-Your-Death-Fear-Me glare.

Rolling his eyes, completely unimpressed, Moony finished setting down the plates and left the brooding man alone and went back into the kitchen. Harry was at the stove. He had insisted on making breakfast for his two guardians and Remus couldn't deny him on this day of all days. Remus refrained from standing over the boy's shoulder to watch him as to not startle him.

Harry was quite a good cook but grew very nervous if someone hovered. Instead Remus went to dig around in the Icing Cupboard for the half eaten chocolate cake from last night's dinner.

"Padfoot's awake," the werewolf announced from inside the cupboard.

Harry turned in surprise. "Really? Already? But we stayed up so late."

Moony eyed the boy careful around the cupboard door. "I thought all of us went to bed early."

Harry ducked his head, one hand reaching out to turn off the cooker. Remus' eyes narrowed.

"Did he sneak into your room last night? Were you two up until obscene hours in the morning? Not sleeping? Having fun? Without _me_?"

The last question was asked in such a wounded tone. Harry's green eyes shot up, filled with apology. Realizing the teasing at his expense, he smiled.

"This of course explains why all the leftover chocolate cake is gone!" Remus said pointedly closing the door and rounding on the boy. "And here I was about to blame pixies."

Harry hopped off the stool and backed away, knowing full well when tickle torture was imminent. "It was all Padfoot's idea!" Harry protested with a grin. "He came bearing gifts."

Moony stopped advancing. "Ah! So it's _his_ fault."

Harry nodded vehemently.

"Well then. Breakfast first. Revenge later." Remus grabbed the food from the frying pan and shooed Harry ahead of him into the dining room.

Sirius was still staring into his empty tea cup as if it held all the answers of the universe. Remus though he looked rather like Madam Fortisha, their old Divination teacher at Hogwarts all those years ago.

Harry reached up and as was his habit from when he first met Sirius, petted him like the giant dog he sometimes was, calling out his greeting to his still dazed godfather. "Morning, Padfoot! Breakfast!"

Sirius looked up and blindly snatched some of the warm food just as Moony placed it on the table. He then yanked the 11 year old into his arms settling the boy against him, hugging him tight as if he would at any moment disappeared.

"Morning, Harry," he murmured.

Harry titled his head back to meet his godfather's blue eyes, frowning at the worry he saw there. Harry opened his mouth to say what Remus feared was his refusal to go to Hogwarts after all. The werewolf cleared his throat loudly to break the moment. Moony fixed his amber eyes on his friend with a stare that said quite clearly _If you make this any harder for Harry I'll make a rug out of you_!

Sirius's expression switched like, well, _magic_, to a smile. "Thanks for breakfast, Harry."

"Welcome," Harry said and made to get up and sit in his own seat but Sirius's arms tightened. Harry relaxed immediately, quite content to stay where he was for the meal.

Afterwards, plates cleared, the black haired Marauder insisted that he and Lupin would take care of the dishes. He urged Harry to hurry upstairs and check on Hedwig, his birthday present that year from Sirius.

Remus came around the table and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. He hadn't seen Sirius so close to falling apart in a long time. It was in moments like this that you could see every year the man had spent fighting for his sanity in Azkaban. "Just breathe, Padfoot," the werewolf murmured.

"Maybe I should go with him," Sirius said suddenly.

Lupin shook his head. "Dogs are not a permitted familiar at Hogwarts." He kept his tone calm and reasonable.

"What if-- what if Harry has another premonition? A clear one, not just this-this blasted _feeling!_ Or-or--"

"Harry hasn't had one in quite a while. You know the more magic he does the less his other abilities swamp him. And _if _he does have one, he knows he can go to Albus."

Padfoot dragged his attention away from the stairs he could see through the dining room entrance and rounded on his friend. "He still has nightmares. You know that! He tries to hide them. Someone needs to--"

"He'll be fine. He'll write to us about everything that happens and we'll be supportive and happy for him No. Matter. What. House. He. Gets. Sorted. Into."

Sirius scowled back at the werewolf. This wasn't something he had initially worried about. Harry's parents were in Gryffindor. Sirius had no doubts of Harry's courage. But Harry was very powerful, there was something familiar about that wand, and worst of all Harry actually _liked_ snakes. He'd wanted to get one when they'd gone to Diagon Alley. He said they were beautiful and very nice. Not that he didn't love Hedwig to pieces, loved going out flying with her, but . . . it was worrisome.

"Moony, they'll just be so many _people_! He's so little and shy, only si-"

"Padfoot! If you asked him to stay you know he would. If you asked him to walk through fire or jump off a cliff or face down a dragon he'd do it for you. But this is what is best for HARRY." Remus said firmly. "He can't stay here his whole life. He may think he wants to, but that's because he hasn't see how wonderful the world can be, how exciting. If you remember, it was no different for me going to Hogwarts," the werewolf finished diffidently, trying to hide his own memories behind a cool tone.

Sirius sighed softly. Moony had a point. How could he forget little Remus Lupin whom he and James had met on the Hogwarts Express? A small boy who through ruthless self control held in a vicious, powerful, dark creature. Meeting Padfoot and Prongs had been Moony's first social interaction with children his own age, with people other than his frightened, overprotective parents since he was a toddler.

Remus continued on and Sirius now recognized that it was half about Harry and half about himself. "He hasn't spoken to someone his own age in years," the werewolf said softly. "He needs to make friends, he needs to learn--"

"Learn?" Padfoot said incredulously, trying to break his friend out of his sad thoughts, as he began to gather up the dishes and head towards the kitchen. "Ha! Harry could out hex, out charm, out transfigure, and out duel even the professors at Hogwarts. He's doing seventh year and above work out of my old school books. He's one of the most brilliant wizard I've ever met. What could Hogwarts teach him?"

"Potions?" Moony said wryly as he began running water in the sink.

Sirius stopped short, dumped his dishes on the counter and ran his hands through his hair sheepishly. "Well that was never my best subject," he admitted. Sighing, Sirius sat down at the kitchen table but not before grabbed his now dirty tea cup and resumed staring at its contents. "I _suppose_," he said at last "we could always pull Harry out if he was unhappy or if it became unsafe."

"See? Now don't you feel better?"

The mumbling that followed did not bear repeating in civilized conversation.

* * *

They apparated into the chaos of Platform 9 3/4. Hedwig squawked in annoyance, spreading her wings anxiously within the confines of her cage. Harry leaned over and stuck his fingers through the bars to calm her, stroking her soft white feathers.

"Move along! Move along! 'Nother lot coming through!" the porter yelled. Hurriedly gathering up Harry's trunk and owl cage, Sirius shepherded his godson off the apparation platform set up by the Ministry's transportation department to prevent mass splinchings. The noise was cacophonous and Harry stuck close to Sirius and Remus as they maneuvered through the crowd.

"See?" Padfoot pointed out a stone archway where people came running out of at speed. "That's the entrance to the Muggle train platform; between 9 and 10. That's the other way to get in here, unless you fly," he joked.

Harry nodded that he understood; he could feel the shape of the gateway, its magic tingling his senses. If it wasn't for the constant traffic he'd love to try passing though the gateway just to see what it felt like.

The station clock struck quarter to the hour cutting off any experimentation. The noise on the platform managed to double and Harry had to fight not to cover his ears and shrink into Padfoot. It was _so loud_ and there were so many people.

"It's time," Remus called over the din.

Sirius's jaw tightened; he'd almost convinced himself that this trip was just a rare outing, not Harry leaving!

"C'mon," Moony urged as they avoided getting run over by a gaggle of redheads. Remus helped a porter load Harry's trunk onto the baggage car. The porter moved to grab Hedwig's cage but Harry stepped back, not wanting to be separated from his owl. She had been a birthday present from his godfather.

"All owls are with baggage, sir," the man said irritated with the delay.

"He wants to keep his owl, thank you." Sirius snapped.

Saving the situation, the werewolf played peacekeeper. "You'll see her when you go and get your school robes out of your trunk this afternoon, Harry." Moony reached out gently and took the cage from Harry's unresisting hands. "She'll be safe. Besides she won't be comfortable in one of the compartments. They tend to get packed with other students very quickly."

"I'll see you later, Hedwig," Harry whispered softly. Sirius smiled at his godson reassuringly and reached out to ruffled his hair.

"Bloody hell!" Yelled the porter nearly dropping the cage upon catching sight of the scar on the boy's head. "You-You . . . You're HIM!" he sputtered raising one shaking finger to point at boy. "You're HARRY POTTER!" He turned, excited, and yelled down the platform to another porter. "Hey Marty! Guess who?!"

Remus quickly yanked Sirius away before the Animagus ripped the man's throat out. "Let's get Harry on the train," Moony commanded firmly. "_Now,_ Padfoot."

"They're staring at him. Pointing fingers. He doesn't like it. We. Are. Going. Home." Sirius hissed pulling Harry close, shielding the silent 11 year old with his cloak as the news spread that Harry Potter was on the Platform.

"Padfoot!"

For a moment Sirius looked ready to argue, but pushed it down. This was not the first time something like this happened when he went anywhere with Harry. But Harry was painfully shy around strangers, the attention and fame the last thing he wanted because in Harry's mind it was only a reminder of horrible things: his parents dying for him, Sirius falsely imprisoned in Azkaban, Remus shunned from Wizard society without any friends to support him, and Harry living with the Dursleys.

It set Sirius' teeth on edge to see his godson so uncomfortable. He damn well hoped Dumbledore and McGonagall would watch out for him or he'd take Harry home immediately. Pulling himself together, knowing Harry would only become upset if he was, he stalked through the crowd with the presence of a grim. The crowd wisely parted in front of him.

They got to the entrance of one of the passenger cars and Padfoot whirled around and crouched down in front of his godson, hands on his shoulders.

"Ready to go?" he asked with a desperate cheerfulness, trying to ignore the people gathered behind them, watching.

Harry nodded jerkily, tearing his eyes away from their audience.

"You won't have so much fun that you'll forget us will you?" Sirius joked brokenly.

The boy's green eyes widened in horror, missing the teasing tone completely. "No! _Never_!"

"He's joking, Harry," Moony reassured his friend's son. "He's just being Padfoot."

Sirius's eyes burned into his godsons. "You're going to be all right, Harry," he said softly, willing it so "and so will we. Have fun. Be safe."

Harry threw himself into Sirius's arms holding him tight. "Love you, Padfoot," he murmured into his shoulder.

"Love you too, Harry. So much."

Harry pulled reluctantly away and grabbed Moony around the waist. Remus returned the hug, the wolf in him calm as it always was around Harry, even during a waxing moon. Sometimes he wondered whether it was because of the blood bond he shared with the boy and Sirius or whether it was just _Harry_. Regardless, he had to fight the voice in his head-- that sounded remarkably like Padfoot for some bizarre reason --that told him to stop being so responsible and take Harry back home, keep his pack safe. Remus drew back hurriedly before he did something he knew he'd later regret.

"All aboard!"

"Best get going, Harry."

The green eyed boy took a deep breath and nodded.

"Go on," Moony said softly.

Sirius stood, taking his godson's hand in his and the two of them walked the last few steps together to the passenger car.

Harry squeezed Padfoot's hand once tight in his, then let go.

* * *

Review and tell me what you liked.


	4. CHAPTER IV: The Houses the Founders Buil...

NOTES: Longer chapter as promised. Thank you all so much for the specific reviews, they help more than you know!

Glad you guys liked Remus. We actually know so little about him in the books, so he is a challenge and a joy to write as a three dimensional character. I see him as a calming presence to Sirius's intensity, but I hope to show in later chapters that he isn't controlled to the point of being a Vulcan. ;) As for Houses for Harry, if you've read "Good Intentions" by neutral you know where he will end up. Harry is in for an exciting year and I will keep up with the fairly steady posting, hopefully with no more than several days in between new chapters barring emergencies. Finals are over but work is starting. Sigh.

LaurelRose- Ah! Someone at last caught the chapter title and guessed the correct movie. I love Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, a great old film. Thank you for your comments.

* * *

CHAPTER IV: The Houses the Founders Built

* * *

Brushing past other students, Harry searched for an empty car and entered. Climbing up on one of the seats he examined the window and pulled it down several inches. Sticking his head out he spied his guardians and waved. 

The clock struck the hour and the train whistled and began pulling out of the station. Harry kept waving not bothering to call out goodbye since it couldn't be heard over the sound of the train, but he saw Padfoot and Moony waving back as the station grew farther and farther away.

The noise of the compartment door sliding open startled him and Harry slithered back inside and sat down. A red headed boy stared at him anxiously from the door. "Can I sit in here? All the others are full."

Harry nodded and gestured to the free seat. He had expected to take the ride to Hogwarts alone when he found an empty compartment yet now he had company.

The boy plopped down with a thump. "Thanks. Three of my older brothers are down further, but I don't want to sit with them. I'm Ron by the way," he said sticking out his hand.

Harry shook it. "I'm Harry."

"You're a first year too?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded, trying to keep the surprise off his face. This was the second time someone his own age had just started talking to him out of the blue. Dudley had never spoken to him but to insult him and had made sure that no other children did either. Harry decided he should say something more this time than just answering questions. Recalling his "conversation" in the robe shop he thought frantically for something appropriate to say.

"Are all your family wizards then?"

"Yes, I think so," Ron said. "I think my Mom has an accountant cousin floating around somewhere. We never talk about him."

Ron's family was obviously one of the pureblood families then, but he seemed quite different from the boy in Diagon Alley.

The snack trolley came by and per Padfoot's most serious instructions he bought it out completely, more than happy he had something to share and someone to share it with.

Harry started with the chocolate frogs, pulling apart the box to see who the card was.

"Who'd you get?" Ron asked around a mouthful of pumpkin pasties.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, pleased, though it was not a card he was missing. He turned it over anyway and read the back before tucking it into his pocket.

"I've got six of him," Ron announced, swallowing.

Suddenly the door to the compartment slid open and a girl their own age already dressed in Hogwarts robes stood there looking official. If Harry didn't know better he'd say she was a Prefect.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost his," she said in a bossy tone.

Harry looked at Ron who shrugged. The green eyed boy leaned down and check the floor and in the corners of the compartment.

"No, sorry. Er, have you tried a locator spell?" Harry asked tentatively.

"A locator spell?" she echoed with interest. "I didn't see a locator spell in our course books and I've already memorized them. What is it? Where did you read it?"

Harry backpedaled quickly. It was not a good idea to broadcast that he was already well past first year material. "W-well, I just thought there should be some sort of spell that you could do."

"Oh, I guess I'll continue to look." The girl sighed. "Thank you. I'm Hermione Granger, I'm a first year. I was ever so surprised to get my letter. I'm looking forward to practicing magic in a classroom setting, though I did some spells at home and they all worked for me."

The compartment was silent after that very fast pronouncement; Ron look properly steamrolled; Harry didn't know if he was supposed to say anything at all so he settled for introducing himself.

"I'm Harry, this is Ron. It was very nice to meet you."

That seemed to be the right thing to say. "I'll see you at Hogwarts. Please let me know if you find a toad."

"We will," Harry assured her.

The compartment door slid shut. Ron rolled his eyes. "I hope she's not in my House. She reminds me of Percy, my brother," he added seeing Harry's blank face. "She's practicing for Prefect already."

Both boys settled back in their seats staring out at the scenery and Harry listened in awe as Ron discussed at length his many older siblings. He couldn't imagine having so many siblings, but despite Ron's halfhearted grumblings it sounded wonderful.

Once again the compartment opened, but this time it wasn't the lady with the food trolley or Hermione but another boy with two heavyset bodyguard types flanking him. If they were first years, Harry would be very much surprised. He didn't recognized the two towering boys, but Harry immediately recognized the pale, sharp faced boy from the robe shop. He looked slightly out of breath as if he'd been in a hurry, even though his school robes were unruffled.

He pointed his finger at the black haired boy and announced. "_You're_ Harry Potter!"

Ron who was taking a sip from a bottle of pumpkin juice choked, eyes bulging in shock.

Sighing internally at being found out so soon, worried that the now stunned Ron would start to treat him like a freak, he answered softly. "Yes. I'm Harry Potter."

"Ha! I knew it," the pale boy crowed. "There was this commotion on the platform that you had arrived."

Ron had recovered his breath. "You're Harry _Potter_? _The_ Harry Potter?" he gasped. "You've got the-the scar and everything, right?"

Harry fidget uncomfortably as Ron leaned forward to stare at his fringe covered forehead as if Harry had become invisible except for the hidden mark.

The boy in the doorway snorted at the redhead's behavior and stepped completely into the compartment leaving his silent behemoth bodyguards outside. "You should have introduced yourself at the robe shop. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron sat back, halting his inspection of Harry's forehead to stifle a snigger.

Grey eyes rounded on the boy and Malfoy sneered. "Think my name is funny, do you? No need to ask _your_ name. Red hair, Hand me down robes . . . you must be a _Weasley_." He said the name with such disgust that Ron turned as red as his hair.

Draco Malfoy then returned his attention back to Harry. "They say that you've been out of wizard society for years, hidden in seclusion. Now that you're back you should know that there are some wizarding families that are better than others. I can--" but he broke off as Harry interrupted.

"Last time you said wizard families were somehow better than ones that were muggleborn just because they've been in wizard society longer," Harry remembered, brow furrowing, "and _now_ you're saying that some wizarding families are better than _other_ wizarding families. That doesn't make any more sense than what you said in Madam Malkin's."

Malfoy gaped for a long moment, and then shut his mouth with an audible snap. Whatever response the boy would have finally come up with was lost above the rising noise outside in the corridor. Hermione Granger had run into Draco's entourage.

With a strength of presence that was stronger than most and reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall dealing with a rowdy Padfoot and Moony, she stuck her head into the compartment.

"You two had best get dressed. The conductor said we will be there soon."

"Thanks," Harry said.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she took in the two seated boys and the third, Draco Malfoy. "Is something going on here?"

"No," Harry responded quickly before the sneer on Malfoy's face no doubt turned into something horribly vocal and insulting. He really didn't need the headache of famous rivalries that were the lifeblood of Padfoot's many Hogwarts stories. "We were just using the opportunity of the train ride to meet some of our year mates. Bertie Bott Bean?" Harry said offering Draco the package, the picture of politeness.

Malfoy took one coolly.

That seemed to placate Hermione. "Very well. You should hurry."

Malfoy watched her go for a moment before turning back, arrogance mostly recovered from his previous shock. "See you at Hogwarts, Potter," he said as he spun around on his heel and exited the compartment.

"You've met Malfoy before?" Ron asked incredulously.

From the corridor Malfoy's voice rose. "Brussels Sprouts! Yergh! Thbptptptptpt! Yuck!"

Fighting down a smile Harry returned his attention to Ron. "Briefly," Harry said cautiously, uncertain how Ron would treat him now that he knew who he was. "I didn't know his name though."

"And he didn't know yours," Ron said smugly as if it were a personal victory. "You're Harry Potter. Why didn't you say anything?"

Harry shrugged, staring out the window. "I didn't think it was important. Just because Voldemort-"

"You said his name!" Ron exclaimed. "I can't believe _you_ of all people said _his_ name!"

The green eyed boy stood. "It's just a name. It's what he calls himself." Wanting to avoid the topic of the Dark Lord, Harry motioned towards the baggage car. "My robes are in back. I'm going to go change."

"Mine too," Ron said, jumping to his feet, balling up their sweet wrappers to toss them out in a dust bin.

Harry headed towards the other car, Ron following behind. As he passed other compartments, other students pressed their faces in the glass to stare, others stuck their heads out and pointed. News had already spread. Fighting the urge to duck his head, Harry hurried towards the back knowing that at least Hedwig would be happy to see him for just being Harry.

* * *

They had arrived in the Great Hall after a boat trip across the lake. Harry had greeted Hagrid, happy to see a familiar face. Now in the castle proper lead by Professor McGonagall, Harry could relax. It was safe here; the magic of the wards felt like Moor House but stronger. It was enough for Harry to push aside the images in his mind of the war ravaged castle he had seen a few years ago. 

Now he stood along with the other nervous first years. In between the shoulders of his taller classmates he looked at the teachers at the head table trying to see where Professor Dumbledore was.

He caught sight of a purple turbaned head in deep conversation with a black eyed, black clothed scowling man.

For a moment the world slipped sideways. Harry drew a deep breath and forced the vision back. He could _not _have a dream in the middle of the Great Hall, not if he was to keep as low a profile as possible given his name.

Rubbing his now burning scar absently, he turned his attention to Professor McGonagall.

Padfoot and Moony had told him many things about Hogwarts like the way to the kitchens, the location of key secret passages, and other very clever enchantments around the castle, but they had refused to tell him how students were Sorted into their Houses. Faced with the patched, dilapidated old hat Harry could understand why; Harry wasn't sure he would have believed his teasing and prank loving guardians if they told him a singing hat was responsible for the job.

Professor McGonagall had began reading off names. Hermione Granger was in Gryffindor as was the boy who had lost his toad, Neville Longbottom. Draco Malfoy got his wish and was placed after barely a moment in Slytherin. Then it was his turn.

"Harry Potter," Professor McGonagall announced with a faint smile. Harry took a deep breath and stepped forward. All around the Great Hall voices rose in whispers and gasps. Making his way easily through his year mates, most of whom had turned to stare at him, he saw Professor Dumbledore at the head table now that the taller heads no longer blocked his view. The Headmaster nodded in greeting, and so ignoring the other students Harry took his place on the stool, gripping the sides tightly.

He stared out at the four Houses wondering where he would be in just a few moments. Hundreds of eyes stared back in silence. A slightly sick feeling filled him and Harry fought the urge to fidget. He took a deep breath and turned his attention to the hat in the transfiguration teacher's hand. He looked up through soot black lashes as the shabby thing was placed on his head.

Ah-ha!

Harry nearly fell off the stool as the voice echoed in his head.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter.

It is nice to meet you too, Harry thought back deciding being polite would be best. He closed his eyes as he felt the magic of the hat seem to seep into his skull. Unable to curb his curiosity he ventured a question. _What are you looking for?_

Many things. You certainly are complex, both old and young. You are . . . familiar, the hat said with a note of wonder.

Familiar?

You remind me of another.

Who?

But the hat didn't deign to answer. **You have found safety and peace I see.**

Thanks to Padfoot. I mean Sirius. Sirius Black and Remus too, Harry explained quickly, most grateful to his guardians.

****

I remember those two. I remember your parents as well. Your loyalty to them is great. You have done many things to protect them, keep them safe though you are very young. Helga would be proud to have you in her House.

Hufflepuff? Harry opened his eyes and glanced over at the Badger's House, seeing anxious eyes watching him. He shut his quickly. _I only did what anyone would do._

No, the hat laughed. **You have always done what other could_ not _do, though not what you _had_ to do. Not everyone has your sheer knowledge of spells and magic.**

I have good teachers.

But mostly you taught yourself, the hat countered firmly reading the truth in Harry. **You never wanted to be vulnerable again, you or those you love. Such dedication to learning is what Rowena prized in her students.**

Ravenclaw then, Harry thought quietly.

Hmm . . . such strong magic, so much experience already . . . familiar.

Who? Who do I remind you of?

You aren't the same at first glance, mind you, oh no! Not from my point of view at least. But underneath all the peace and safety you have found, it runs deep, an undercurrent of power that you already know how to hide, how to use to your advantage. Some scars simply cannot heal, the hat said sadly, **not even in Hogwarts' magic walls.**

Just put me somewhere, Harry pleaded, growing anxious. He didn't like this, didn't like the hat prying into his mind seeing old nightmares, old wounds. Some things Harry had never spoken about, not even to Padfoot. Speaking things aloud made them real.

Possibilities, Mr. Potter, possibilities. Sorting is done only once and Houses are together for more than to perpetuate rivalries, despite what you may have heard. You have no need to prove yourself, you know better than anyone the scope of your potential and your destiny. You already have a place you belong. You have already demonstrated what you are capable of. Bravery on the battlefield, the hat said with surprise, stumbling upon that memory. **Not in centuries have a seen students already so experienced in combat magic. Not since the Founding.**

Not bravery, there was no bravery on a battlefield. Only pain. Only death. Only green.

Harry cautiously opened one eye. Students in the Great Hall were beginning to get restless. He had been up here even longer than the other boy, Seamus Finnegan, who had taken almost a minute. The Hall that was once silent was beginning to fill with whispers.

"What's taking so long?"

"D'you think it doesn't know where to put him?"

"Maybe he's not a wizard at all, maybe You-Know-Who was a fluke. Maybe he's a squib."

"Maybe he's not Harry Potter at all."

"Will he be kicked out?"

Harry shut his eyes tight. _Please, I must belong somewhere._

**There's what's in your head, what's written on the skin you can't shed, and there's what's in your heart. Your heart speaks above the rest. It says you're . . .**

**"GRYFFINDOR!" **Harry sighed in relief. He wasn't the only one. Professor McGonagall looked relieved as well. She plucked the hat from his head and shooed him to the cheering House table that was still yelling out that they had gotten the "Famous Harry Potter."

Harry sat in a spare seat while older housemates pounded him on the back and shook his hand, introducing themselves in a flurry of names and faces. Harry wished he could sink beneath the table and hide. They were congratulating him and thanking him and all he wanted to do was tell them that he didn't _do_ _anything_.

He wanted to say that it was his mother and his father who were the heroes. That Remus deserved to be remembered, that Sirius was a hero, that hundreds of others fought and died when Voldemort rose. But he realized with a sinking feeling as he stared into the eyes of person after person who shook his hand, that they didn't look at _him_ but at his scar visible at the moment amid his tangled hair.

He tried to focus his attention back on the Sorting and clapped when Gryffindor got a new member and was relieved when Ron joined the table. He, at least, wasn't as bad at staring as the others because he got some of it out of system on the train.

"Didn't think you'd make it there, Harry," said Ron. "You sat up there for an awfully long time."

"The longest time in Hogwarts history," Hermione said butting into their conversation. "No one's longer than two minutes; you easily surpassed that. I read it in _Hogwarts: A History._"

Ron rolled his eyes.

Dumbledore stood and the Hall fell silent except for growling stomachs.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! A few start of term announcements--"

Harry listened to the Headmaster warning all the students away from the Forbidden Forest and the Third Floor Corridor unless they wanted to die.

"And now before we begin the feast, I would like to say a few words. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweek! Thank you."

Harry laughed under his breath and as food appeared, he filled his plate.

* * *

That night, asleep in his new bed that reminded him of his old room filled with reds and golds, the vision rose again and this time Harry could not push it away. 

There was something on his head and for a moment he thought it was the Sorting Hat, but the voice in his head was hissed, low, cold.

Harry, it whispered. _Harry_.

He reached up and his fingers found not the Sorting Hat but a turban like that one a professor at the head table was wearing.

Harry.

Get off, he muttered.

Harry you must transfer Houses. Gryffindor's not for you. Slytherin, Slytherin is where you belong. You are the snake that cannot shed his skin. Slytherin is where you will make your true friends.

The hat tightened around his head and Harry reached for his magic to pry it off, managing it at last.

He threw the turban aside and was very nearly sick when he realized it was not a turban but a severed head rolling, rolling, rolling down the stairs.

Someone started laughing. Harry whirled around to see who. It rose in pitch, and the stone chamber started to flicker out, other places flashing through.

A fallow field.

There was a green light.

A room, a baby's nursery.

Someone was screaming.

The laugh.

"Not Harry! Not Harry! Haaarrryyy!"

Then everything fell away.

Harry woke with a jolt and found morning had come. His heart racing and sweat making his pajamas stick to his chest, Harry sat up. The dream meant something, but it seemed to be a mix of both vision and nightmare. Parts of it were familiar, the green light was a constant in his dreams . . . but the laugh, the laugh was new.

So was the woman's voice.

That was enough to convince Harry that something was going on at Hogwarts even if it wasn't clear what yet. The feeling of necessity had morphed to one of anxious anticipation.

There was danger here. He had to find it before anyone else got hurt. It was his duty to take care of it, especially if it was related to Voldemort.

After all, his duty was the reason he hadn't died ten years ago, the only reason he was still living in the first place.

* * *

I was a worried how Ron, Hermonie, and Draco came out. I wanted to focus on some of the things I noticed in the book like how whenever people introduce themselves they mention what their background is. I also especially wanted to skew the Draco and Harry "rivalry" a little. Let me know what you think. 


	5. CHAPTER V: You've Got Owl Post

NOTES: Much longer chapters begin here. The text of Harry's letter regarding Snape is pulled directly from neutral's _Half of Dueling Range._

Barbara- Thank you! as you can read below, Snape meets Harry for the first time, though I focus more on the fallout that results since JKR did such a fantastic job with that scene in the book and the movie . . . wow. Rickman as Snape was inspired if you ask me. Whoever cast him deserves an award.

TeeDee- Ah yes Padfoot's reaction to Harry's belief that he outlived his parents for 1 purpose only . . . it will be a reoccurring theme in this story as you can see from the chapter below. Kudos to you for picking it up. Thank you for your kind review.

Badger Lord- I do want to do some slightly unique things with Draco and Harry. Not too much in first year, but second definitely. I don't like to use "enemy" characters only as two dimensional foils for the "heroes." Draco is still Draco, but I see him as more than just a bully. That's Crabbe and Goyles' jobs. Wouldn't want to take that from them.

LilPup- We will definitely be seeing what the Marauders are up to while Harry is at school. More so in these early chapters than later on, but they will be there.

rayvern- The mentions of the battle and the ruined castle of Hogwarts much like Harry having held Voldemort's wand are hints at later plot points and twists in _Clawtracks to Stars_. I ran them by neutral first though. She said for the most part I'd read her mind. ;)

* * *

CHAPTER V: You've Got Owl Post!

* * *

It was night. In the dorm now filled with other Gryffindors breathing quietly, Harry looked up from his letter and absently reached out to run his hand down the red curtains that were partially closed around his bed. It was late, but he felt too alert in this strange place to sleep.

The castle was huge and there were hundreds of children and at least a dozen or so adults. He was using this time of quiet to write to his godfather and Moony. He had decided to wait until after the first day of classes and not write after the Welcoming Feast. He didn't want Padfoot to worry that he wasn't adjusting or wasn't safe, he _was_.

Well, sort of.

Pushing aside distracting thoughts and half memories of dreams, he stared down at what he had scratched onto his parchment.

Dear Padfoot and Moony,

Dipping his quill in ink, Harry continued.

I'm here at Hogwarts.

Harry stopped writing. Sirius knew where he was. He struck that line out.

I'm sitting in the first year dorm.

That was better.

at Hogwarts, he added after a moment.

All right, Harry thought staring at his very first letter, _this is not so hard_.

He'd never written a letter, much less a letter home.

Hogwarts was very different from home, but the place _was_ magic, it filled his senses. He couldn't help but love it after all the stories his guardians had told him. Sometimes he thought that if he turned a corner fast enough, peered through a hidden corridor as silent as a mouse, he'd catch sight of the students who went here before. The whole castle seemed to be filled with the presence and sound of children past.

Classes were all right-- the ones he'd had so far. It was good review and Harry could sit soaking up the magic of Hogwarts, dropping all of his self made barriers and control. It was a huge relief; he hadn't realized how much concentration it took to keep them up.

He leaned over the parchment intently, and continued.

The train ride was very long. I did as you said and bought lots of sweets. I shared them with a boy called Ron Weaseley and another named Draco Malfoy. They are both from all wizarding families. I also met a girl named Hermonee Granger who was looking for a lost Toad. She's muggleborn.

Harry sat up and stared at his letter so far. Not bad. He hoped he had spelled everyone's names right. It was rather odd that whenever anyone introduced themselves they talked about what their family was, wizard, muggle or mixed. Harry supposed it must be important for some reason or another, though hopeful not for those rather bigoted remarks Draco had made in the Robe shop that day in Diagon Alley.

We went over the lake just like you said. It was so beautiful seeing the castle lit up. The welcoming Feast was very nice. Padfoot, you owe Moony 5 sickles. It was roast beef for dinner just like he said.

**Sorting was a surprise. I see now why you thought I wouldn't believe that a talking hat sorted students into their houses. Everyone was really surprised when Professor McGonnagall called my name. Everyone knows who I am**.

Harry decided not to mention the stares and the whispers that followed him from class to class. He, who had know only a bare handful of people his whole life, was suddenly instantly popular.

Or more accurately, the _scar_ was instantly popular.

He rubbed it absently. He didn't think about it at all really. It hurt on rare occasions, usually dream related. Most days back home Harry forgot that he even had the scar all together.

Well, he decided, Remus had gone to school here and he was a werewolf. Okay, so unlike Moony everyone knew him and his big "secret." Still, Sirius always said that Remus won people over, got them to look beyond the fur and the teeth. Harry decided that that was what he was going to do. He wasn't going to go and get Padfoot all worried and growly about it like he did at the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry turned back to his letter, penning his words to the parchment with ease in the faint moonlight.

**The dorm room is very nice. Sorting took a very long time. The hat talked to me but I don't think anyone else heard it but me. It kept looking and looking, trying to make up its mind. Do hats have minds?**

It said I was very loyal and smart. That Hat remembered both of you too. I sat up there for a long time. My new house seemed very -------- happy that I'm with them. I've already had Transfiguration this morning and Charms in the afternoon.

Harry considered his wand careful where it lay beside him. He'd not bothered with a _lumos_ spell, there being enough light with the nearly full moon, but partially because he didn't trust it yet. Things came easier letting the magic work as it willed.

He'd tried to transfigure a matchstick into a needle with a flick of his wand earlier in class today. To his shock, nothing happened. Magic had always worked for him, and now for the first time he failed at a spell.

For one terrifying moment he thought the magic was gone, had abandoned him, that the constant presence that seemed to flow through his veins instead of blood, the magic in him that had brought Padfoot into his life and taken him far, far away from the Dursleys, had left him.

Pushing panic aside, trying to calm his pounding heart, Harry had realized that it was the wand, not him. He was forced to _hold back _to even use it properly. As frustrating as it was that the wand core was slow to adapt, he knew from handling Voldemort's wand that it _could_. At least it made keeping pace with his classmate's more believable.

But he wasn't going to write about the wand to Sirius. He didn't like it at all when Harry mentioned Voldemort.

**Using a wand is different**.

Harry looked at what he had written, nodded, and moved on.

Tomorrow we have Potions and Herbology. I wish I could be there tomorrow night for the full moon. Please be safe both of you and have fun running around in the woods.

Love,

Harry

Pleased, Harry tore off the sheet of parchment from the role at the end, preparing to fold it. Nearby on the dresser, Hedwig fluttered, anxious to carry a letter.

Harry was just about to affix the wax when he realized he completely forgotten to tell the most important news of all.

Pulling out his letter he wrote on the back in a careful hand.

**P.S. I'm in Gryffindor**

* * *

Remus looked over at the muffled noises at his elbow. "See?" he said waiving the letter he'd just finished reading at Sirius. "He sounds quite happy."

"Mmph!"

"Not one complaint," the werewolf said pleased.

"Rmmph!"

"He sounds like he's having the time of his life."

Silence.

Remus actually looked at Sirius bound and gagged by magic on the carpet, no longer struggling, just glaring.

"Calm now? Not going to selfishly hoard Harry's letters any more? Not going to keep me from reading it when it's addressed to both of us? See?" Moony brandished the letter again. "Dear Padfoot AND MOONY."

Sirius nodded reluctantly and was released with a wave of the werewolf's wand. Sirius scowled and sat up. "My name was first." He grumbled. "I should get to read it."

"But you wouldn't read it aloud."

Sirius pouted. "Fine. May I see the letter?"

Remus calmly handed it to him. Sirius scanned it with brow furrowed. "I think you skipped a part."

"What part? Where?" Moony asked peering over his friend's arm.

"What House Harry is in. He talks about the hat, about what it said about being loyal. Oh Merlin, you don't think he's a Hufflepuff do you?" Padfoot whispered, horrified.

"Harry? A Hufflepuff?" Remus scoffed. "Let me see." He grabbed the letter back from the black haired Marauder. "See, the hat said he was very smart."

"Ravenclaw? If he was a Ravenclaw why doesn't he say so?" Sirius snatched the parchment away from the werewolf. "Do you think . . " Sirius said slowly. "Do you think he's afraid to tell us what House he got sorted into? Do you think Harry's in--in . . ." Padfoot shook his head vehemently, unable to even voice the thought.

Moony tugged at the paper until he could see Harry's words clearly. "He doesn't mention the hat saying he was brave or courageous at all."

"And look! Look! He mentions Malfoy's son. _He's _got to be in Slytherin just like his bastard father. And see! He crossed out the word "excited" and put in "happy" instead. No Slytherin would be happy that Harry was there, but excited, oh yes. Some of them would be excited about the prospects of killing my godson under orders from their parents!" Padfoot was practically snarling in anger waving the letter like a battle flag.

Lupin's eyes caught on a scribble of writing on the back. "Wait! Wait!"

"Wait what? I'm firecalling Dumbledore right now!"

Moony made a grab for the letter, managing to retrieve it before it was crumbled in Sirius's fists.

"Albus should have told us the moment this happened. And here I thought Harry would be safe in Hogwarts," Sirius groaned, tugging on his hair. "I'm taking him out and bringing him home right--"

"P.S. I'm in Gryffindor," Remus called after Sirius.

The Animagus froze in the doorway for a moment before whirling around. He stormed back over to Remus and snatched up the letter reading the wobbly postscript on the back.

Smiling, he folded the letter careful back up, cool as a cucumber. Moony eyed him warily. These mood swings were getting downright scary.

"Of course Harry's in Gryffindor," Padfoot said happily. "Where else would he be? Probably so excited that he forgot until just sending off the letter with Hedwig." Sirius stared down at his smirking friend. "You realize what this means don't you?"

"That you overreact more than James' Great Aunt Gwendolyn?" Moony asked innocently.

"No, it means you've just proved how incompetent at letter reading you are. Not even checking for a P.S. No more letter reading for you, Mister Moony."

Remus stood facing his friend confrontationally, poking him once in the chest for emphasis. "Mister Moony would like to inform Mister Padfoot that such a statement is regarded as an act of war."

Sirius stood taller, eyes narrowing with anticipation. "Mister Padfoot welcomes your pathetic attempts with the full future enjoyment of mocking them all."

"Wands then?"

"Wands, sir."

Both men assumed the dueling position, turned and began to pace off steps.

Hedwig watched the two of them from the fireplace mantle and hooted indignantly. Humans. She'd barely escaped with her tail feathers when the two had begun to fight over the letter. Her boy made so much more sense. He even had his own feathers occasionally. Realizing she wouldn't get a reply now to deliver to her boy, she flew up the stairs to the owlry leaving the two Marauder's hurling curses and hexes at each other.

* * *

Much later when the more embarrassing charms and hexes had worn off the two Marauders lay sprawled on the couch, exhausted in the quiet house.

Harry had been at school only a couple of days and already the place felt so much bigger and emptier than before. Not that Harry was loud or messy or anything. But his presence was felt and now sorely missed. For one thing, if Moony had to listen to one more second of Sirius's complaints about boredom . . .

"Why don't you go out and do something?" Remus asked in exasperation.

Sirius picked at the fabric of the couch. "Like what?"

"Like get a job!"

"A job?" Sirius repeated dumbfounded.

"Yes. You remember? Work, an occupation?"

Sirius opened and closed his mouth a number of times like a guppy. "A job," he repeated still stunned.

The werewolf rolled his eyes. "Anything to get you out of haunting this house."

"I'm not--!"

"Yes, you are!" Lupin countered, sitting up. "Your life since Azkaban has been as secluded as Harry's. Hell, your life since Azkaban has been_ only_ Harry--"

"There's nothing wrong with that!" Sirius interrupted hotly. "Harry needs--"

"He does need you, he always will need you most likely, but he's at school, safe. You need to think about you too!"

"Well, what about you, Moony?" Padfoot sputtered. "Other than the occasional slaying--"

"I write," he informed his friend. "I've been writing articles in academia for years. You and Harry have read most of them. Now I've been working on a Defense book, under a pseudonym of course. I've been thinking about taking on more field work for research purposes."

"But . . I don't need to work," Sirius said dazedly.

"It will do you some good," Moony said firmly. His eyes softened. "I know we don't talk about it, but you survived Azkaban sane for over half a decade. You escaped and held yourself together for Harry. But what about Padfoot, my friend? I worry for him. I worry that his universe revolves around one little boy, that he'll one day crack and break."

"Now wait just a--"

The werewolf ignored the interruption, continuing on inexorably. "I worry for Harry who's whole world revolves around you and his . . . misconceived perception of duty to the wizarding world," Lupin growled the last part. They both knew where that idea had come from. The alternate universe's Albus Dumbledore had used what little time he'd had Harry under his care to plant that concept deep in the boy's mind. Harry had nearly happily martyred himself for the Cause at age nine while adult wizards and witches watched safe from a distance as a black haired green eyes boy marched alone into battle with the greatest Dark Lord their world had ever seen in an Age.

"You've both got to live life for yourselves, not just each other. You taught me that, you and Harry, and James and Lily. I'm not just the wolf. You are not just a godfather. Harry is not a martyr and a tool to be used. We're people. People have jobs. Remember, Padfoot?"

Sirius sighed and closed his eyes. "When did you get so smart?"

"I seem to remember always being this smart."

Blue eyes popped open. "Do I come across as crazy?" Padfoot asked earnestly.

Remus struggled not to choke upon hearing the question. "Noooo, just . . ." Remus for the first time had to think hard for words. "intense, focused, driven. And with good cause. You've been holding on for so long. Relax." He punched his friend in the arm. "Do something for Sirius."

"I can do that. I can." Sirius scoffed.

"Of course. Go!" Remus said gesturing expansively. "Find work! Stop haunting the house."

Laughing, Sirius got to his feet. "Okay! Okay!"

* * *

Harry knocked tentatively on the modest hut's door.

It swung open and filled with the massive form of Hogwarts' groundskeeper.

"Harry! Good to see yeh!"

Harry smiled up at the man. "Hullo Hagrid. I got your letter," he said holding up the note.

"Yer jest in time fer tea. Come in, come in."

Harry entered, staring around in amazement at the myriad things stacked in corners, at the cages and bundles handing from the ceiling. He climbed onto the seat and nodded gratefully as Hagrid placed a cup of milky sweet tea in front of him.

"So, " Hagrid began cheerfully. "How are yeh enjoying Hogwarts, then?"

"It's wonderful." Harry sipped his tea carefully.

Hagrid brought out a plate of cakes, moving aside the Daily Prophet to place the offerings before the first year. Harry took a cake, a bit surprised that the gray stone color matched the consistency of the pastry. His eye suddenly caught the headline detailing a break in at Gringotts. The picture showed a very familiar vault entrance.

"Vault 713," Harry whispered remembering the breakfast he'd had with the man at Diagon Alley and the important business Hagrid had been on. He looked up hurriedly to meet Hagrid's eyes, shrinking in his seat as he realized that he'd spoken aloud.

"That's Hogwarts business. No need to worry now," Hagrid scolded gently, pulling the paper away and folding it into one of the many pockets of his massive coat that lay across an empty chair. Harry, watched as the paper disappeared from view, and not wanting to break his teeth on the cake, attempted to dunk a corner of the large biscuit into his rather small tea cup.

"So," Harry pressed tentatively, not wanting to anger the giant man, but the gamekeeper had been very kind since Harry had met him so he thought he could risk it. "So whatever was in the vault is safe?"

Hagrid smiled. "Don't yeh worry on it. Hogwarts is the safest place in the wizardin' world."

Harry nodded, gnawing on a corner of the still unblemished cake.

"How are classes? Enjoyin' being with all yer yearmates?"

Harry shrank in his seat, remembering the laboratory he'd just escaped from minutes earlier. "Classes are good," he answered carefully. "Though . . . though I don't think Professor Snape likes me very much," Harry whispered desperately.

He'd been singled out, questioned, ridiculed. It was his fault, according to the professor, that Neville got hurt so badly from his botched potion. He hadn't meant to hurt Neville. Everyone had stared, a lot of the other students had laughed. For an instant, sitting in that dank classroom listening to Snape's voice practically spit the word "celebrity" at him Harry wasn't sure he could to this, all these people wanting, expecting, watching because . . . because he was . . .

The Boy Who Lived.

Even thinking about that title made Harry want to hide.

Harry stared down at his tea. "He asked me these questions . . . I knew one of them, but--" Harry swallowed audibly and twisted his hands in his lap. "I wish I knew what I did wrong so I could fix it," he confessed.

Hagrid harrumphed, sitting back in his creaking chair. "Well, Professor Snape is a member of the Hogwarts staff. Professor Dumbledore hired him. Great man Dumbledore," The massive man said with a firm nod.

Harry wilted. He really shouldn't have criticized Professor Snape.

"_But_," Hagrid said sharply, leaning over the table as if to impart a vastly important secret to the boy, "Snape can be a grumpy old bat on most occasions. Don't yeh pay any mind to his grumbling. He likes everyone to be just as miserable as him."

Blinking in delighted shock, Harry barely managed to stifle a laugh.

The bearded man grinned broadly in response.

"Now don't yeh be de tellin' anyone I said that," He added hurriedly. Harry hid his smile quickly and tipped some of his tea into his saucer and placed the cake in there to hopefully soften by sometime next year. "Don't want to be accuse of tellin' tales now do I?"

They enjoyed tea, Harry listening quietly as Hagrid told him all about the many creatures he had met over the years.

It was the most relaxing afternoon Harry had spent since coming to Hogwarts. There were no stares, no people talking loudly about him as if he were deaf. There was no constant stream of people coming over to introduce themselves, to shake his hand, to stare at his scar. For one hour that blissful fall afternoon, there was no wand to struggle with, no memories to quell, no deep pervasive fear that something . . . dangerous would happen soon. There was no dreaded potion class. There was only tea, and cakes, and Hagrid.

That night after Harry had sent off a letter to his guardians detailing his day, only briefly mentioning that Professor Snape didn't seem to like him that much, he curled up on his bed in the dark. He reached out and ran his hand across his bed post, fingering the initials carved into the wood by a former occupant years ago.

J.H.P.

Hogwarts could be home too. Being here could be more than just because he needed to.

Smiling in the dark, Harry slept.

* * *

Remus had just gotten settled.

He had his cup of tea, some biscuits, his favorite quill and a comfy pillow behind his back to prevent more serious back aches laying him out for a week. He was all set for a long writing jag. Ideas fermented in his brain. His book was coming together. He'd had every hope of finishing several chapters today when Padfoot had descended.

Sirius had taken hold of the idea of getting a job and was shaking it like the oversized puppy he was. He had burst into his office causing Moony to splotch his ink and tip over his tea into his lap.

Decidedly soggy, he listened incredulously as Padfoot explained he wanted to do something called "brainstorming" to decide what job to take. It sounded rather odd and decidedly muggle. But then Sirius had always had a very wide variety of interests.

Moony despaired of ever getting back the quiet of his study and his book. "How about going back to the Ministry?" he asked at wits end.

The black haired Marauder looked up from his list of job possibilities. He commandeered Moony's favorite quill (and was now chewing on it having devoured all the chocolate biscuits), ink, and a good portion of his parchment to scribble his ideas down. "Ministry work? The same Ministry that oh, say, denied me a trial and threw me into Azkaban. That Ministry?" Sirius snorted. "Besides even if I did have faith in the system, it's just too time intensive, too much commitment."

Remus tried in vain to blot out the tea from his trousers with a sopping handkerchief. "All you have is time!"

Sirius worried his lower lip. "Something might come up. We might get a call from Hogwarts. Harry might . . ."

Remus smiled. "That's true. If he's half as much trouble as James, we should makes sure to have plenty of free time."

Sirius grinned at the thought, pushing away darker concerns. "So I'm looking for part time. Occasional work."

"You could always volunteer at something," Remus suggested jokingly.

Sirius sat back and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps. Money really isn't any sort of issue. Anyway, I turned in my application to the employment agency several days ago. I have an appointment this afternoon about my prospects."

"If you're using an employment agency, why are you bothering me with your brain raining exercise?" Remus demanded incredulously.

"Brainstorming," Padfoot corrected.

"Brain rain, brain hail, brain _anything_, just leave me be and let me write my book!"

But--"

"Out!"

* * *

Jillian Hallowell waved the rather good-looking wizard into her office as she finished her firecall. One of her junior assistants had failed to find this applicant any interviews let alone any potential positions. Deciding to show her staff that no client was impossible to place, she had taken the case herself. There was no excuse for not having a prospect for their client.

Everyone was placeable. Everyone.

It was their company motto.

Opening up the file on her desk, she looked from the name on the paperwork and up at the man seated before her and then back to her paperwork. _This must be some kind of joke. _"Mr. . . . uh . . ."

"Black. Sirius Black."

Jillian peered carefully at the black haired man in front of her. _Impossible,_ she scoffed. _Must be some office joke. When I get my hands on Paul . . ._ "Sirius Black," she said sweetly deciding to play along for now. "Is that your real name?"

"Yes," the man said slowly, staring at her.

Jillian couldn't hide her smirk. _Well, at least he's hot._ "The godfather of the Boy Who Lived?"

The black haired man positively beamed. "Harry's my godson, yes."

Either this man was a damn good actor or . . . Jillian surreptitiously opened her desk drawer where her copy of _The Crystal Ball_ sat proclaiming such headlines as "Banshee Gives Birth to Screaming Frog Spawn, Picture on Page 2," "Merlin's Face Found On Side of Building; Apocalypse Nigh." and of course "Sirius Black's Insane Rampage at King's Cross Station. Former Death Eater Kills 12 Hogwarts Students."

Carefully peering at the largest of today's sensational headlines complete with picture she compared the man in front of her to the men in the picture.

They were a dead match.

Sirius watched with growing concern as his employment caseworker went pale and began to visibly sweat. "Is something wrong?" Sirius asked.

Jillian jumped, attempting to slam the drawer shut but when it jammed the contents spilled onto the floor. _The Crystal Ball_ floated careful down to join the mass of quills and scraps of parchment.

"Here, let me help," Black got up and came around the desk, ignoring the woman's whimpering protests and helped her with the jammed drawer. He then bend down and picked up the paper and tried to hand it to her. She screeched and backed away as if he had just drawn his wand and told her he was going to kill her.

Confused Sirius stared at the newspaper and the headline. Carefully he laid the folded up paper on her desk.

Scowling (Snapelike, though Sirius would deny it) he said coldly, "Perhaps you didn't know, but I was cleared of all charges a few years ago."

Jillian nodded hard. "Yes, yes of course Mr. Black."

"So," he said retaking his seat. "The other person I talked to said there was a problem. Can you place me in a position immediately or not?"

There was no reply but the audible gulp from the woman across the desk.

"You are an employment firm are you not?" he demanded sharply. "Don't you brag in your adverts that you can place anyone? Within a week? Don't you claim that no person is under qualified, that everyone can find work? Wouldn't want that to be false advertising now would we and . . . disappoint the clients?"

Jillian shook so hard her teeth were rattling. "N-n-n-no sir, n-no of c-course not, Mr. Black. But-but you see--"

"No I don't see. Spell it out for me. Why can't you place me?"

Why? WHY? _Because you're a mass murderer! You were in Azkaban and you escaped! _But she'd never say anything like that. Jillian didn't want to die at the age of 37, killed by a rabid Death Eater. "It's-it's just that your reputation precedes you."

"My reputation?" Those ice blue eyes narrowed. "As a student with excellent marks from Hogwarts? As the top graduate with a degree from the Avalon Institute of Higher Learning? As a certified and accredited Transfiguration Master? As an Unspeakable? As a war veteran? As a highly qualified wizard? As a damn good beater?

"I-I--"

"Or do you mean as a mass murderer, kidnapper, and a Death Eater, the Dark Son of the Lord Voldemort?!"

She let out a semi intelligent squeak.

"_Well_?!" Sirius demanded, slamming his fist on her desk. Papers went flying every which way and Jillian scuttled to pick them up, stuttering her answer.

"People, people just don't want . . ."

"Me." Sirius stood towering above the crouched witch. "I see this has been a colossal waste of time and money."

Pride fled and fearing these were her last moments on earth, Jillian decided it wouldn't hurt to beg for mercy. "Please, Mr. Black, d-don't, don't--" she pleaded.

Sirius's storm cloud expression dropped to one of tired exasperation. "Oh, for Merlin's sake."

Grabbing his paperwork off her desk, he left the office.

* * *

Disgusted, Sirius had flooed back home after he had received his demanded refund, (plus interest) and found Hedwig waiting with a letter. Pleased, Sirius dropped into a seat in the living room, tossing the agency paperwork without a second thought into the fire.

His hands hesitated for a bare instant before breaking the seal. Remus _really_ didn't need any more interruptions with his book. Sirius would enjoy the letter addressed to the both of them by himself.

After all, what Moony didn't know couldn't hurt him.

Tearing open the envelope, Padfoot devoured the contents of his godson's letter. It calmed him like nothing else could. He could practically hear Harry's voice telling him about his first classes at Hogwarts, the people he'd met, all thing things he'd seen. Harry sounded like things were going well, sound like he was fitting in--

Sirius sat up from his sprawl and reread the last paragraph intently.

**I had the first potions class today, and the potions master, Professor Snape, doesn't seem to like me. I'm not sure what I did wrong though but I think it's because I couldn't answer some of the questions he asked (they were really hard! I don't know anything about potions). But in transfiguration… **

Severus Snape was a teacher.

Severus Snape was a teacher at _Hogwarts._

Severus Snape was a teacher at Hogwarts where _Harry_ was.

Severus Snape was teaching Harry_ potions._

Sirius Black couldn't get a job as a rubbish man, and Severus Snape Was. Teaching. Children.

Teaching _Harry._

Carefully folding the letter back into the envelope Sirius sat back and stared into the fire, brooding darkly. It was one thing for him, Sirius Black, to be ridiculed and disliked just because of his name. But Harry, little six year old Harry who had never hurt anyone, who was a Gryffindor, Lily and James' only son, didn't deserve this kind of treatment especially not from one Severus Snape.

For a brief moment Padfoot considered showing the letter to Moony before pushing the thought aside. No need to get his fellow Marauder upset because of stupid, judgmental people; Moony had had enough of that in his life.

No, this had to be dealt with delicately, with finesse, with the Marauder's touch.

Looking up at Hedwig perched on her usual place on the mantle Sirius smiled a truly wicked smile.

"Up for a round trip back to Hogwarts?" he asked pleasantly.

Hedwig stared down at the human and ruffled her feathers. This one was scary. It was best to get back to her boy as quick as possible. Carefully, she extended her clawed foot.

"Hold that thought," Sirius said. Hedwig watched as he dashed about looking for some quill and parchment. Stretching her wings, she prepared for the long flight back.

* * *

"Morning post's here!"

Harry looked up, eyes catching on the snowy wings of his owl. Usually Sirius let Hedwig rest a day after the hours long journey to Moor house, not sending her back right away. Happy that he would receive a reply a day early, he watched as the owl circled the hall once before dive-bombing the head table. Talons releasing, the silent bird swooped away.

"oh, no," Harry whispered as he watched in horror.

A flaming red envelope floated serenely down past the stunned hooked nose of Hogwarts resident Potion Master to land in his hot cereal where it summarily caught fire and exploded.

An oh so familiar voice filled the hall, reverberating so loud the tables shook. Harry risked a single glance at the stunned sour features of Snape. Globs of oatmeal dripped off of his nose.

"YOU DISGUSTING, PETTY, SMALLMINDED GIT! HOW DARE YOU BOTHER MY GODSON! YOU POND SCUM! YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO BREATHE THE SAME AIR AS HIM LET ALONE **DARE** TO **PRESUME** THAT YOU CAN EVER TALK TO HARRY!"

At the sound of his name, everyone's horrified eyes turned from the stunned features of the Potion Master towards the Gryffindor table. Paling and panicked Harry ducked under the table, wrapping his arms around his knees, shocked and embarrassed.

But it wasn't over, not yet.

"YOU PATHETIC IGNORANT BASTARD! TYPICAL SLYTHERIN, YOU WOULD TAKE OUT YOUR FRUSTRATIONS ABOUT BEING A STUPID PRAT, A SLIMEY SNAPE ON A POOR BOY! GET OVER YOURSELF OR I WILL SEE YOU PICKLED IN YOUR OWN POTION INGREDIENTS! IF YOU EVEN STARE AT MY GODSON THE WRONG WAY, YOU GREASY GIT, I'M GOING TO GOURGE YOUR EYES OUT WITH A **SPOON! **DO ANYTHING, **_ANYTHING_** TO HARRY AGAIN AND I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU **_SUFFER!"_**

The letter sputtered for a moment. Harry peeked out from under the table and immediately recognized the shape and the nature of the final spell attached to the red envelope. If no one stopped it, Professor Snape would spend the rest of the term bald as a hardboiled egg.

And Harry would spend it terrorized to within an inch of his life.

Preemptively, Harry reached for his magic.

Just as the red letter of doom sparked, water dumped over the Slytherin's greasy head.

The resulting explosion only singed the man's eyebrows off.

Silence reigned in the hall.

Harry dared not come out from under the table.

The sodden Head of Slytherin rose to his feet. Harry had no doubt the black eyes were fixed on his empty seat at the Gryffindor table.

Harry watched through the feet of his classmates, not even daring to move as the dragon hide boots and black robes stopped beside where he was hiding.

Silence remained unbroken. He held his breath an watched as puddle formed at the Professor's feet.

After a long moment the feet moved on.

The door of the Great Hall opened and then closed.

Laughter exploded, cheering from the Gryffindors, exclamations and boos from the Slytherins. Excited voices swirled around above him.

"Did you see his face?"

"--porridge all over his--"

"I wish I'd brought a camera!"

"Only Potter would dare--"

"A disgrace to send a Professor a--"

"Slimy Snape!"

"They'll let him get away with it, just you watch!"

"Priceless!"

"I've never hear of--"

"Thinks because he's the Boy who Lived--"

"--a Howler to a teacher!"

"Did you see the Fireball?"

"-- of course Potter would--"

"Burned to a crisp without the water!"

"I heard that he's nothing but a-"

"Wish he had!"

"-- _completely_ stuck up, nothing but a spoilt--"

"Harry?" Ron stuck his head under the table. "Harry, are you coming out?"

Harry didn't look up, burying his face in his bent knees, wishing he was back in his dorm room.

"Harry?"

He shook his head; no, he wasn't coming out.

Ron's voice took on a worried tone. "You sure? What about breakfast?"

Again Harry shook his head.

"Okay then," Ron said slowly

"Isn't he coming out?" Hermione's voice rose.

"Harry's fine," Ron replied shortly

"He can't eat under the table. All students must eat at their House table, it says so in--."

"Leave off! He's not eating right now, is he? No need to quote chapter and verse."

"Hey, Harry!" Twin redheads popped under the table. "Wicked letter!"

Harry peeked up to look at Fred and George's grinning faces.

"You're godfather's absolutely brilliant."

"Sending a Howler to Snape, inspired! You'll go down in history for it!"

"A Howler to a professor." Percy's indignant voice interrupted from above. "What kind of a Gryffindor would do such a thing? He'll be lucky if we don't loose a hundred points and come in dead last for the House Cup!"

Harry paled. He hadn't thought of that. He'd just been dreading ever seeing the Potion Professor ever ever again, but what about his House? What if because he'd written to Sirius they lost all their points?

"Percy, knock it off!" Fred yelled.

The twins praise stopped and a tentative hand touch his shoulder. "Hey, its just a joke Harry. Snape's gone. We'll protect you. No need to hide."

Harry didn't move.

Fred and George shared an unfathomable look and vanished up above the table.

A few minutes later, Ron ducked back under, brow furrowing. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to come out Harry? They're sausages."

Sausages settled it. He had no appetite now. Harry wasn't moving.

* * *

This chapter is kind of Marauders heavy now that I look at it. But given the fact that later chapters focus more on Harry and Ron and Hermione it makes sense to see what those two are up to. I worked so hard on the employment application scene and it still feels awkward to me. Ah well.

As for the Howler scene . . . what did you think? I know I labeled this story as action/adventure/humor but I'm not sure I got the humor down.


	6. CHAPTER VI: One Flew Over the Quidditch...

**AUTHORS NOTES**: Ff.net is being evil about my font tags and I'm only using the approved ones. Anyway, in case the bold on the letters doesn't come out all written correspondence is between // //

I would like to thank everyone who reviewed. 51 reviews. Wow. That's big for me. hugs self I feel the love! Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love how you guys ask questions and say what you like about the plot or characters. As you know I write really really long reviews so love to get detailed ones too! grin

Review comments are below. But one comment by **rayvern** makes me realize that perhaps I should explain once again, in case I wasn't too clear before oops! My bad ;)

In _Clawtracks to the Stars_ Harry, age nine, and his two guardians get pulled into another war torn world. Dumbledore in this world is highly mistrustful of who exactly Harry is, as the boy is very very powerful. Harry faces down Death Eaters, wandless and wins, in the first few moments he is in this other world if you remember. While this story is not complete, neutral and I had some heavy email correspondence about where that story was going and how it has shaped Harry. The mentions of Harry holding Voldemort's wand, of fighting on the fallow pitch beside a crumbling Hogwarts, of the "alternate universe" Dumbledore using and twisting Harry's beliefs are part of the _Clawtracks_ story **not yet written** that _I_ thought up, that turned out to be parallel to a lot of what neutral had outlined for the rest of story. As agreed upon by neutral and I, I allude to _Clawtracks_ events written and **un**written in _this _story because it is relevant for the way Harry deals with his inevitable confrontation with Voldemort.

I hope that makes more sense. ;) Thank you **rayven **for your review. I'm glad you liked the Howler.

The rest of answers to review questions/comments are below!

*****

CHAPTER VI: One Flew Over the Quidditch Pitch

*****

After sending Hedwig off with a bright red envelope and having a good night's sleep, Sirius felt ready to tackle the job search once again. Settling down at the kitchen table with the necessary tools, breakfast, and some strong tea, he dove in. Remus, emerging from his room still sleepy after being up all night writing away, stumbled into the kitchen and blindly poured himself some tea.

Murmuring in satisfaction, the werewolf sat down gracelessly and finally managed to pry his eyelids open and get a look at what his best friend was up to. The black haired man had come back from the employment agency yesterday tight lipped, refusing to say how it went.

Moony looked over to the post basket and found it empty. "No letter from Harry?" he asked with faint surprise.

Sirius didn't look up. "No, nothing this morning."

Remus focused on what Padfoot was doing, and finding the still muggle photograph of the Times staring him in the face he wondered if Padfoot hadn't lost it in the night

.

"Is that a muggle paper?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, for your information Mr. Moony it is."

The werewolf opened his mouth but Sirius cut him off. "Why do you ask? Why would I, Sirius Black, be looking through the muggle job adverts?" Sirius pointed his quill accusingly at the werewolf. "I'll tell you why. Because _I_ have a reputation as a deranged killer and Death Eater in the wizarding world. _Snape_ can get hired but me? Oh, noooo! I branded for life a traitor, while he is at Hogwarts. Teaching. My. Harry. Potions. Slimy git," he muttered, tucking the quill back behind one ear, and shaking the paper in his hand, resumed his search. 

"Snape is teaching at--?" Lupin began incredulously, but was cut off again.

"So it's off to explore the world of muggle job possibilities."

"Need any help?" Moony put in weakly completely blindsided. Snape. Teaching _children?_

The mind boggled.

With extreme concentration, Sirius plucked the quill from behind his ear, dipped it in red ink and circled a tiny advertisement. "No thanks. I'm fine."

"Wait a minute," Remus said, suspicions rising. "How did you know Snape was teaching at Hogwarts? A letter came from Harry_ last night _didn't it, didn't it?"

Not meeting his eyes, Sirius gathered up his papers, finished his tea with one gulp and made his escape. "Sorry, got to run Moony,"

"Sirius!" Abandoning breakfast in favor of an impromptu run, Remus took off after his friend.

*****

//**Dear Padfoot and Moony**,//

//**Guess what? We had out first flying lesson and Neville got hurt. But anyway some stuff happened, Malfoy was being a prat and I didn't get expelled like Madam Hooch threatened for flying but, Professor McGonnagall said I'm on the house Quidditch team. I'm a seeker! Oliver, he's the Captain he asked me what I'd played and I said I'd played 2 man with you Padfoot. But they already have beaters named Fred and George Weasly. Gryffindor didn't have a seeker and now I'm it. I'm not sure I'll be very good, but Professor McGonagall said I'd better be especially if I didn't want to get in trouble and punished. Oliver said we were going to practice with the snitch later on and I'm going to start the very first match. They said I'm the youngest seeker in a century. I was wondering if you could give Hedwig my broom. Not right away because she must be tired. We have our first game against Slytherin soon and we have practices in the morning. It is nearly time for dinner so I must go**.//

//**Love to you and Moony**.//

//**Harry**//

"The youngest seeker in a century. My godson." If Sirius smiled any wider his face would crack.

"Seeker" Moony whistled admiringly. "I never knew Harry was any good as seeker."

"Neither did I! The youngest seeker in a century."

Remus grinned. If James was alive he'd been jumping about, doing cartwheels-- he'd have been so happy. And Lily, Lily would have been proud but worried about her boy playing with the older, rougher girls and boys. "What was all that stuff about being expelled and punished if he doesn't play right?"

Sirius waved him away from the letter. Despite him hiding the last one that Harry had sent, he'd managed to get the new one from Hedwig first and had read it aloud. "Probably got into a fight with that Malfoy brat. No firecalls from McGonagall so I'm sure it's no big deal. And if it is," Sirius muttered under his breath too low for Lupin to hear "I'll send her a Howler too. Threatening my godson."

"Probably got into . . . Let me see the letter," Remus demanded. "Did you even read all of it to me?"

"I read it! I read it!"

Moving quickly, Moony snatched it away and skimmed it's contents smiling at the excited tone. He reached the end and froze. "P.S. Thank you for the Howler. You don't need to send another one," he read aloud. He stared incredulously at Padfoot. What alternate universe had he fallen into when he wasn't looking? Sirius sending Harry a Howler? "A Howler. You sent _Harry_ a _Howler_?"

"What?!" Yelled Sirius indignantly. "I would _never_ send Harry a Howler. Are you _mad?_ I sent _Snape_ a Howler."

Remus's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You s-sent Snape . . ." he gasped falling onto the couch. "You sent him a Howler?"

"Made sure it came in on the morning post right during breakfast," Sirius said proudly.

A strangled noise was all the response the werewolf could muster.

"Obviously it did the trick and that greasy git won't be bothering Harry any more."

"Or," Moony argued, voice returning "Harry will be persecuted mercilessly as a result of your letter and he won't tell his overreacting crazy godfather anything that is bothering him for fear of MORE lunatic stunts!"

"You don't think Harry would keep things from us do you?" Sirius said worriedly. "Oh Merlin," he murmured. "That's exactly what Snape would do! Take it out even more on Harry, and he wouldn't want to worry me and he wouldn't tell me!" Leaping to his feet, Sirius grabbed his friend's arm and a handful of floo powder. "Come on, we're going to Hogwarts and bringing Harry home right now. I won't leave Harry to be miserable and alone there persecuted by that—that GIT!"

"What?! _No,_ we are _not_!".

"But Moony--!"

The werewolf yanked his arm out of the Animagus's grasp. "For the thousandth time Harry. Is. _Fine_. He'd tell us if he was unhappy. According to this letter he is very _happy _because he just made seeker for his House team. I was just pointing out that sending Howlers to his professors could be counterproductive."

Sirius looked ready to protest for a moment when the amber eyes of his friend pinned him. Sighing he replaced the powder in the jar. "You're right. He does sound excited. And why wouldn't he? He's the youngest seeker in a century!" 

"We'd best send the broom right away then. First game's against Slytherin. I heard they've won the House Cup the last couple of years."

"Not this year," Sirius scoffed. "The broom, yes, the broom." Sirius ran to the stairs and came down with Harry's Cirrus 7. He was about to give it to Hedwig when he suddenly hesitated. 

"Padfoot," Moony began, a warning tone creeping into his voice. He recognized that expression. It was Sirius's _I've got a brilliant idea _expression and it never boded well. Last time he wore it was no doubt just before he sent of the Howler to Snape. Gods, Remus wished he was an owl in the rafters when _that _one went off, he thought with an inward smile.

"Harry can't use this old Cirrus 7. If he's playing for Gryffindor, as seeker, the youngest in a century, he needs the very best racing broom."

"Harry loves that broom. It's the first birthday present he ever got, the first present you ever gave him. You taught him to fly on that broom."

Sirius smiled, remembering the tiny little boy who had stared up at him, so trustingly, as he'd explained to his godson how to fly. "I know he loves it. But, he'll love the new one too." Carefully placing Harry's broom on the abandoned couch, Sirius grabbed a hand of floo powder. "Go grab our cloaks and let's go. I want to get to Quality Quidditch Supplies before it closes."

Knowing it was fruitless to argue, Moony folded up the letter and set it aside and went to get their cloaks from by the door. "He'd love it even if you gave him an original Cleensweep to fly on," he muttered to himself.

*****

"Post's here," Ron announced as the faux magical sky above the Great Hall filled with owls. 

If Harry had been paying attention he would have noticed that dozens of Gryffindor eyes besides his own watched his snowy owl for more Howlers. It was now a regular nightly project to send Sirius Black letters in Harry's name detailing tortures by Snape, requesting more Howlers. If the culprits in question (lead by Fred and George of course) had informed Harry about their plans he would have told then that Moor House was so warded even the Minister of Magic couldn't get through with post, let alone regular school owls.

But today, much to Harry's relief and everyone else's disappointment, there was no red letter.

Hedwig swooped down looking quite tired and dropped a rectangular box wrapped in brown paper and string into Harry's hands. The snowy owl landed gracefully on Harry's shoulder, careful not to dig talons into her boy.

Harry smiled in greeting and stroked the exhausted bird and offered her a piece of bacon which she took delicately. He was surprised to see her. He wasn't expecting her for another couple of days and not with a store wrapped package.

"Well?" Ron asked in exasperation. "Aren't you going to open it?" he demanded through a mouthful of toast, ignoring Hermione's look of distaste.

Harry tore off the brown paper as Ron moved aside breakfast to make room for the package. Setting it down, the black haired boy and took off the top of the box and encountered a sea of gold foil and red tissue paper. Eyes alight he fingered the Gryffindor colors, reminded of his bedroom back home. Having gained the attention of surrounding students, Harry complied with vocal requests to look inside.

He reached through the tissue paper and pulled out a broom.

Awed silence descended on the first year Gryffindors.

Harry's hands followed the shape of the handle in amazement. "This isn't my broom," he murmured even as he admired the excellent grip and weight of the broomstick.

"That's a Nimbus 2000!" Ron exclaimed finding his voice. 

"There's a note," Hermione pointed out. 

Harry put the broom back into the box and picked up the envelope and broke the seal.

//**Dear Harry**, //

//**Congratulations on joining the House team. I'm so proud of you! I'm sure you'll do wonderfully. Your father was good on a broom, but you were born to fly. Don't worry, your Cirrus 7 is still at home waiting for you. However, as a seeker the best racing broom is a necessity. I wanted to get it for you for your birthday, but since you weren't allowed to bring your own broom I was putting it off till next year**.//

The writing suddenly changed and Harry smiled as he recognized Moony's careful script.

//_We are so proud that you made the team a whole two years earlier than your father and Padfoot. I'm sure we know who the better player is. Padfoot insisted on going to the shops as soon as he got the letter to get you a new broom. I'm sure you'll do wonderful in your first game. Remember to have fun flying. Be safe_. //

//_Love_,//

//_Moony_ **and Padfoot**//

//**P.S. If Snape bothers you again, you just let me know, all right Harry?** //

The last bit was tacked on in Sirius's sharp hand. 

Harry had no intention of mentioning Snape in his letters _ever_ again, but the broom was a wonderful surprise. 

"Well, well, well, packages from home. Don't they know you're going to be expelled for that stunt you pulled during flying lessons?" Harry looked up. The tone was unmistakably that of Draco Malfoy. The blond smirked at the shorter boy. "Couldn't tell them what happened, could you? Got expelled for being a ruddy show off."

"Harry's not going to be expelled. If anyone should be kicked out after what happened it would be you, Malfoy," Ron spat.

Draco shot the redhead a cold glance. "I don't believe I was talking to you Weasley." He reached over and grabbed the open box and burrowed through its contents. "What did they send you? Forget your baby blanket at home? Or did they--" Malfoy broke off as he lifted the handle embossed in gold. "A Nimbus 2000," he whispered before he could stop himself. Shaking his head, he tossed the package back on the table. "Presents for breaking the rules? Isn't that just like a Gryffindor?"

"Yeah, we Gryffindor's are known for things _other_ than stealing," Ron said.

"And we Slytherin's believe in letting our wands show our mettle," Malfoy snapped back, before turning to meet Harry's gaze who'd been watching the two of them like a wizards game of badminton volley back and forth. "Wizards duel Potter. Wands only. No contact and we finish what _you_ started by playing the _hero_ during the flying lesson. What's the matter?" Draco taunted. "Never head of a wizards duel before, I suppose?"

Harry nodded as he closed the box. "I've heard. I just only duel when necessary and with my enemies. Though," Harry amended "I do like to practice. Remus said that they used to have a dueling club here at Hogwarts, but not anymore."

Blinking at the tangent, Draco asked "So are you in or not?"

"I told you. I duel enemies."

Malfoy folded his arms across his chest and scowled. "And I'm not an enemy?"

"No, you're just a bully," Ron muttered under his breath but loud enough to be heard by all.

The blonde's eyes narrowed venomously. "And that's all I am?" Draco said fuming when Harry didn't contradict Ron's statement.

"I don't know you that well," Harry said rather sheepishly but attempting to employ some of Moony's diplomacy.

"I am not a-a bully, Potter," Draco spat furiously. "_I_ . . . am a rival."

Harry bit his lip for a moment, trying to think of a way to diffuse this pointless show of House rivalry. He'd rather deal with it on the Quidditch pitch. He had enough to worry about with the pointing and the staring in the halls without gangs of students attempting to hex him for hurting Draco Malfoy, especially after the Howler incident. 

"Rivalry usually implies some sort of equality in the participants," Hermione piped up from behind her book.

All three boys turned to stare incredulously at the intruder into their conversation. Hermione however did not look up from the text.

"So? Are you in? Midnight in the trophy room."

"What about seconds?" Ron piped up before Harry could explain again that he had no intention of actually dueling with Draco Malfoy.

"We don't need seconds," Harry cut in sharply. "I'll spar with you yes. A real duel? No. Not with you."

Draco pursed his lips in annoyance, grey eyes narrow, but he must have realized that on this Harry wasn't going to give an inch. "Fine then. I'll see you there." Whirling around, he returned to his House table.

Hermione set her book down with a thump. "Don't even think about going. Being out of bed past curfew could lead to loosing all the House points I won in Charm's yesterday. It's bad enough what happened during the flying lesson."

Harry bit his lip, worried. He didn't want to do anything that would bring down his House. But he had given his word and he needed the practice with the wand. Besides, of everyone here at Hogwarts Malfoy probably knew the most about dueling.

"I'll tell Percy if you go," Hermione threatened.

Straightening his spine, Harry gathered up his package. He wasn't going to change his mind and back out. While Harry didn't want full fledged war between Houses, he wasn't going to let the blond haired Slytherin walk all over him. "It's none of your business what I do. I gave my word. I'm going."

Ron got to his feet as well. "Besides, without any seconds or his two bodyguards, Malfoy's probably too chicken to show anyway."

*****

Ron's words proved prophetic. Not only did Malfoy not show up he'd tipped off Flitch to get Harry caught. Finding the hidden passage that led to an unused stairwell behind the picture of the Lady Margolotta, the famous ancient vampire, just where Padfoot had told him, he'd narrowly avoided being caught by Mrs. Norris. 

At least he was alone. Harry had to sneak out an hour early to avoid Hermione and Ron coming after him, but if he was going to do something foolish he'd do it on his own. 

Firmly resolving he was going to get Draco back by completely and utterly flattening the Slytherin's at Quidditch after Halloween, he dashed down the hall, freezing Peeves before the annoying poltergeist could raise an alarm with a wave of his hand. Harry unlocked the door at the end with less than a conscious thought and found himself face to face with what could only be the guardian of Tartarus.

Three slobbering, giant, fang-filled heads stared down at him and Harry realized that he was in the forbidden third floor corridor where messy and painful death was a forgone conclusion.

He froze and watched as the heads descend.

One nose pushed forward and pressed against Harry's chest snuffing at him deeply. Carefully, waiting until the dog had had its fill, he tentatively reached out to scratch the left head behind the ears. Smiling as the giant dog whined in happiness, Harry petted the creature. There was no need to be afraid. Remus had never hurt him the nights of the full moon even when he was completely out of his head and long before Harry had mastered the Animagus transformation. Being around Moony and Padfoot, especially with their blood bond, Harry figured he must smell like their pup. No dog however monstrous, no matter how many heads it had, would hurt him.

A steady _whump whump whump_ broke Harry out of his revive and he peered around the heads to make out the giant tail wagging hard, hitting the ground. No, he realized. Not the ground but a trap door. 

Harry made a move towards it, curious to see what was underneath when two of the heads growled at him in warning, the third grabbing his arm in its massive jaws gently and yanking him back.

"all right, I'm sorry," Harry whispered his apology. "you're on guard duty. i see."

Saying goodbye to the dog, Harry left the way he came, locking the door behind him. He walked silently back towards the Gryffindor portrait turning the presence of the dog inside the castle over and over in his mind. It was guarding something, that was certain. But what, and why here?

"Hogwart's is the safest place in the wizardin' world" that's what Hagrid had said.

"Pig snout," he said to the portrait quietly.

Whatever was in Vault 713 was now at Hogwarts under guard.

It should be safe.

Hagrid had told him not to worry.

But, Harry realized with a steadily growing feeling of dread, someone who wanted it bad enough to break into Gringotts and risk the goblin wrath would have no compunction about breaking into Hogwarts to get it.

*****

The next evening Harry escaped with his broom to the Quidditch pitch. All day he'd dealt with Ron and Hermione, the former asking him what had happened, the later refusing to speak to him but still informing him curtly at odd intervals that he was breaking various school rules. 

Seeing Malfoy's shocked expression when he'd shown up for breakfast still a member of the Hogwarts student body was so much fun Harry had spent all day returning Malfoy's glares with smiles, much to the blonde's fury.

But now he was on the pitch and it felt like being home again. Not wanting to wait for Oliver, Harry kicked off with his new broom. 

It responded to the lightest touch of his hand and could turn on a sickle. This was where he belonged. No experience felt as natural and as normal as flight. Faintly smiling, letting the wind whip through his robes as he flew, Harry remembered the very first time Sirius had given him a broom and helped him kick off into the bright morning sky.

He hadn't wobbled or shaken. He hadn't hovered near the ground. Six year old Harry Potter had taken off like a shot much to Sirius's amazement and pride. He'd landed only after Padfoot had coaxed him reluctantly back to earth with promises that they would go flying again, but as it was dark and long past lunch, dinner, and Harry's bedtime . . . 

He hadn't wanted to stop. 

His godfather had crowed with delight at the sight of him, hugging him once he was back on the ground, and declared him a natural.

It was so freeing, so easy. Magic and air flowed around him. He wasn't holding back, he wasn't afraid. There was the air, the broom, and the ground far far below but somewhere in the middle, not really part of anything else, was where he belonged. Nothing was better than flying and while he didn't dare change into his Animagus form at school, a bird of prey, having a broom at his disposal would make Hogwarts much more enjoyable. 

A hooting in his ears cause Harry to open his eyes, realizing he'd been flying loops with his eyes closed well above even the Quidditch rings. Hedwig landed on the broom handle and Harry adjusted his balance effortlessly. She stared at him, ruffling her feathers and Harry sighed, running one careful finger down her back. 

"I know, it's even better with wings. But I can't. Not here. The broom's wonderful though, isn't it?" he asked happily. Hedwig inspected her perch thoughtful before nipping at his fingers in agreement. 

Faintly on the wind, he heard a voice. Staring down, he saw a tiny figure on the pitch waving their arms to gain his attention. Harry simply stopped the broom in midair and dismounted.

Holding the Nimbus in one hand and he fell like a stone headfirst for the first sixty feet. 

Ignoring Hedwig's squawk of dismay, Harry watched the ground rush up to meet him. It wasn't quite the same as diving as a bird but the wind felt wonderful. At the last possible instant, he pulled the Nimbus back under him; it jerked to life at his command and he landed gracefully beside a pale Oliver Wood.

"Bloody Hell. You just _dropped_! I thought you'd lost control!" Oliver stared at the boy in awe. "Professor McGonagall was right. You're brilliant." 

Hedwig landed on Harry's shoulder hooting her displeasure, nipping his ear sharply. 

The Quidditch Captain laughed. "Often go flying with your owl?"

"Not as often as I'd like to," Harry replied.

Oliver blinked in bemusement at the odd statement.

Harry shook his head. "Never mind," he said quietly. He raised his right arm and the snowy owl shifted her perch to it and then lifted off, circling high and out towards the Forbidden Forest.

"Ready to give it a go? You're familiar with Quidditch?"

Harry nodded. "Two man mostly. Bludgers and Quaffles. Never used the snitch in play."

Oliver opened up the bag slung over his shoulder and showed Harry it was full of golf balls. "Better to practice with these what with it getting dark. We'll work up to the snitch in no time if you're as good as Professor McGonagall says. Mount up then, Harry."

Harry got on his broom and shot up about fifteen feet in the air and hovered, watching Oliver keenly in the fading light, green eyes luminescent. Oliver pitched the golf balls slowly at first, then faster and more than one at a time all over the pitch as far as he could and as Keeper it was pretty far. 

Harry shot about and caught every single one. Oliver was having kittens on the ground.

"We'll get the Quidditch Cup for sure this year! You're even better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played professional!" Oliver said with delight once he'd called Harry back to earth. "We'll just keep you our secret weapon till November and then crush the opposition!"

Slightly in awe at the near fanatical gleam in Wood's eyes Harry stayed silent, merely nodding in agreement as he and the Captain headed back inside the castle.

*****

tbc

A bit shorter than last chapter, but I hope you liked what I did with the Malfoy-Ron-Harry interactions. Hermione's character was also a challenge. I had to keep reminding myself she's not exactly friends with them yet. I hope I got the dynamics down.

Next chapter is more Quidditch and a certain Potion's Professor. Plus, the plot thickens!

**P.S.** IMPORTANT!!!!! My **recommendation** for Harry and Sirius stories for the day: "Realizations" by Wishweaver (its on my fav story page) is a great 4th summer story, with a Harry showing just how self reliant he can be. Richly detailed and very long! At Fan fiction Alley in Schnoogle . com there is a great Harry story by Aly Temia called "Third One's the Charm" a wonderful story of friendship and family with such a good epilogue I just keep reading it over and over again! Also go see "Coming in from the Cold" by ahappyjtm also on my fav story page. An alt universe Sirius-Harry story which is clever and very creative. Go check them out! You won't be sorry!

**Notes:** Lady Margolotta is a character from the very popular Discworld Series by Terry Pratchett. First appeared in "The Fifth Elephant." Lady Margolotta has recently joined a self help group to get over her unfortunate blood addiction, but fruit juice just doesn't taste the same. I can see her being hung in Hogwarts. Fantastic books. E-mail me if you want to know what order to read them. 

**Reviews:** I got so many wonderful messages and some very helpful feedback with comments and everything. YAY! Thank you!

**Anon**- You are right, Harry is quite capable at figuring things out for himself. (So is canon Harry, really. Quite an independent and out of necessity a self sufficient boy no matter where he is) The friend dynamic of the trio in this universe is skewered just slightly. You'll see more of how the martyr issue plays out between them. 

**TeeDee-** Yes, Harry under the table. We don't see how he gets out, but somehow he does. Being small has some advantages. As for Fred and George, who can fathom what goes on between the two of them? It is a mystery so fogged not even Trelawney could see through. But the twins, and indeed other students are beginning to pick up on Harry's "quirks" from his past experiences.

**LilPup-** I hope Moony's reaction to the letter was believable for you. As you can see, the marauders are ecstatic about Harry being a seeker. As for Dumbledore, he much like Snape is present and is a presence in the story so far, but haven't said much. More of them to come though.

**Orion-** I am so happy! I've converted someone to neutral. Congratulations! Check out her fav story list and indeed mine for other great Harry stories, Snape stories, and of course Sirius stories.

**Pyro-** I'm so glad I could make your day and that the howler scene came off okay!

**Hyperbole- **Ah, the sausages. All will be revealed in good time.

**Riddikulus-** Sirius thinking Siriusly? Never. Snape will be Snape and Sirius will be Sirius. And it will drive Moony mad. Padfoot can be a bit intense huh? But it is only because he loves Harry so dearly! I am so glad you like so many others found the howler scene funny. I'm glad now I risked writing it, what with neutral already having a snippit in her story _Half of a Dueling Range._ Thank you!


	7. CHAPTER VII: Halloween TROLL

NOTE: This is a very long chapter as promised! There is A LOT in this chapter, so enjoy. Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the wonderful feedback. jumps up and down! You don't know how happy you made me.

*****

CHAPTER VII: Halloween: T.R.O.L.L.

*****

"Troll in the dungeon!" 

The Great Hall fell silent and everyone stared in growing terror and disbelief at Professor Quirrell, Hogwart's resident defender. 

"Just thought you ought to know," he said and fainted dead away.

Screams filled the room as the students stood and began panicking. Harry sat calmly at his seat while around him others became hysterical. He wondered distantly why he wasn't more surprised. But it was Halloween; it figured if anything were to happen it would be on _this night_. 

He'd been expecting _something_ to happen since he'd received his Hogwarts letter. With something akin to relief, Harry looked up at the high table. He watched as Snape made a dash for a side exit. Dumbledore, Harry noticed, watched the Potion Master go before rising to his feet and calling first for silence and then for the prefects to lead the children to their common rooms.

"Gryffindors, follow me," Percy called out authoritatively. The House moved forward hurriedly, some of the students audibly whimpering.

Harry stopped next to the collapsed Professor Quirrell, unexpectedly chilled. He stared down at the turbaned head intently. Something wasn't right. Yes, the Headmaster and the teachers were heading down to the dungeons to take care of the situation, but what about Professor Snape? And the troll itself? Trolls didn't just wander into Hogwarts. The castle wouldn't allow it, it was rather particular that way.

"Harry?"

And weren't there alarms, wards, Professor Quirrell himself their resident defender . . . ?

"Harry, come on!"

Ron was tugging on his arm. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from the prone teacher. Professor Vector's feet came into view and with Professor Sinstra's help they lifted the unconscious professor upright and began to revive him.

"Move boy. Get along now," Vector ordered curtly.

"Harry, we don't want to be left behind!"

The green eyed boy's head snapped up and he stared at Ron's hazel eyes. "Where's Hermione? Is she back?" The girl had been hiding in the bathroom all afternoon according to rumor, crying.

"Harry--"

"Have you seen her?" Harry demanded even as he looked around at the fast emptying Great Hall.

"She didn't come down for dinner," Ron said wretchedly.

Harry nodded and started to run not towards the Gryffindor common room but the girl's bathroom.

"Harry, are you mad? What about the troll?" Ron called following the shorter boy.

"Go back with the others, Ron," Harry said not slowing down as he rounded the corner.

"No way," Ron said firmly, hurrying to keep up. "S'my fault," he said guiltily. "Weeping girls hiding in bathrooms during feasts. I'm sorry, I'll never say nasty things again, not even to Ginny," the redhead promised under his breath. He nearly plowed into Harry when the boy stopped suddenly.

"What? What is it?"

"I don't think the troll's in the dungeon anymore," Harry said quietly.

The shadow that crawled along the wall spoke of a huge lumbering creature, much much bigger than Hagrid who was the largest person Harry had ever seen. It was entering the girl's bathroom

"Come on," Harry said. Ron drew his wand and noting the action, Harry flicked his wrist and drew his own.

Pelting down the corridor they rushed into the bathroom just in time to see Hermione come out of a stall, wiping tears from her face. 

"Hermione! Duck!" Ron yelled. 

The bushy haired girl looked up and screamed, throwing herself to the side as the massive club came crashing down where she had stood. She scrambled around and under the sinks on the other side of the bathroom.

"_Expelliamus_!" Harry cast, hoping to disarm the troll before Hermione was hurt. To Harry's horror, nothing happened. He watched helpless as the weapon crashed down barely missing a terrified Hermione huddled under the sinks. Shards of porcelain went flying and Ron and Harry both ducked.

"Help!" Hermione called.

Harry snarled, cursing so virulently that he drew both Ron and Hermione's shocked eyes. Reholstering his wand in disgust, Harry raised his hand, palm out, and _pushed_.

The troll went flying and hit the far wall with a thud that shook the foundations of the room.

"Get Hermione out of here!" Harry ordered. 

Ron, who dodging pieces of masonry that fell from the now crumbling ceiling, grabbed Hermione's arm to pull her up. He raised his wand, casting the first thing that came to his mind. 

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" 

Ron said the words over and over again to keep pieces of the ceiling from crashing down on their heads.

Focusing, now that he knew that Hermione was safe, Harry watched with grim satisfaction as chains burst into existence, wrapping like snakes around the troll. The club was plucked from the beast's hand and began to whack its owner with steady thumps by an invisible hand.

The troll groaned, went limp and the chains tightened. Reaching the doorway to the bathroom both Gryffindors turned to watch as the monster, like a mighty tree, crashed to the floor barely missing crushing the small figure of one Harry Potter.

As the dust settled, quiet filled the bathroom. Harry lowered his arm and sighed in relief. He turned his attention to his two year mates.

"Are you all right?" he asked in concern noting their shocked and pale faces. "Hermione?"

"You-- you--" she sputtered, completely at a loss for words.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered staring about the room where dozens of pieces of masonry and most of the ceiling hung suspended in midair, moments away from collapsing on their heads. He let go of the now steadier Hermione and moved to stand before the fallen troll, poking it gingerly with his toe.

"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Potter! Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall scolded, completely out of breath. "Just what do you think you are doing?"

Realizing that they were blocking the professor's view of the troll, Harry glanced once at the chains willing them to disappear. They evaporated like mist at his silent request. He turned his attention back to their Head of House who was now joined by Professor Snape and the now revived Professor Quirrell just in time to hear Hermione take the blame and Professor McGonagall take and award points, "For sheer dumb luck."

The Transfiguration professor motioned the trio away as she and the Potion Master moved forward to tend to the troll and the destroyed bathroom. Hermione hurried out towards the corridor and the safety of Gryffindor tower. Ron was eager to follow. 

Harry moved forward, happy to get away from the troll before Professor Snape, no doubt, would begin asking more detailed questions of _how_ exactly the bathroom had been ruined, why there was floating debris everywhere, and how the three of them had faced down the monster.

He felt the chill down his spine as he passed through the door, and almost against his will he turned his eyes to meet those of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who was giggling nervously.

"Come _on_, Harry!" Ron hissed grabbing his harm, shaking him out of his revive.

Allowing himself to be dragged away, they made their way into the empty common room. Faint sounds from up the spiral staircase leading to the dorms was the only noise. Percy had sent everyone to bed, forgoing the Halloween celebration.

Harry made no move towards the dorms. Rubbing his arms to banish the cold that seemed to grip him, the black haired boy gravitated towards the still burning fire, distant has he ponder the surreal evening.

Unspoken Ron and Hermione took seats on the couch across from him.

For many long minutes no one spoke. Harry stared at the flames avoiding Ron and Hermione's eyes that he could feel on him acutely. The silence would be broken, questions would follow and there was so much that Harry didn't like to speak about, and so much more that he _couldn't _speak about without endangering others.

It was so much easier with Sirius and Remus. Not that Harry was ever, ever, _ever_ going to tell them about the troll. Incidents like that tended to make Padfoot a little . . . uptight. If Snape being upset with Harry provoked a Howler, Harry didn't want to think what this would do to his godfather. No need to tell anyone just yet. It fell into the category of things Not To Be Spoke Of like the details of his years with the Dursley's and what exactly Harry had done on the Quidditch pitch at the other Hogwarts all those years ago when he'd first held His wand in his hand.

"You used wandless magic," Ron said quietly. "You didn't even use the incantations."

Harry met Ron's eyes briefly and then shrank away from the awe and the fear in his friend's gaze.

He hated people thinking he was . . . odd.

(not a freak, Sirius said, he promised, he was _not a freak_)

"That's a very, very rare gift," Hermione said quietly. "Unless it's random magic in times of extreme stress. And usually I would say facing down a troll would constitute extreme stress. But this," she continued on slowly breaking off a typical textbook retelling much to both boy's surprise "This was controlled, complex . . . multiple charms working in concert with advanced transfiguration and conjuring. After. You. Couldn't. Cast. With. Your. Wand."

Harry winced. He tucked one arm tight across his chest, wishing he could hide. With his right hand he drew his wand, fingers brushing against the holly. "I've . . . never used a wand before really. I'm . . ." Harry searched for words to explain. "I'm modifying my wand to . . . handle the way I usually do magic."

"May I?" Hermione asked, reaching out to touch the wand. She grasped it tight and let out a pained cry; her whole body beginning to shake as she fought to hold on. Harry half stood, ready to pry it out of her fingers, not daring to use magic as the wand interacted with the witch.

"What's it doing? Drop it!" Ron yelped, knocking it out of her hand.

Harry opened his hand and the wand, instead of falling to the floor, floated into his grasp.

Hermione looked just as shaken as when the troll was trying to kill her.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked anxiously as he took his seat.

She nodded. "It felt like fire, but not the same as real fire. It felt . . . alive." 

Ron stared from her unmarred hand to Harry's wand. "You've already . . . modified it a lot," Ron said carefully. "It doesn't really look like other wands."

Harry stared at the slightly luminescent quality to the holly and shrugged.

"I've heard of some wizards who after having their wand long enough, it won't work well, mess up spells, backfire for other people. No one else will ever be able to hold that wand let alone use it," Ron continued.

Except _Him_, Harry thought very very quietly to himself. He slid his wand away up his sleeve.

"I'm just glad no one got hurt. It's over now," Hermione said in a reassuring voice. "The professors will take care of it, and nothing like this will happen again."

Harry looked away.

But not quick enough.

"Something is going on," Ron said sharply. 

"It's late," Harry said, trying to distract them, getting to his feet.

But the youngest Weasley boy would not be shaken off, not after what he'd seen tonight. "Tell us. Are we . . . are we still in danger?" Ron demanded reaching out and grabbing the shorter boy's wrist.

"_Still_?" Hermione echoed in surprised, looking back and forth between Ron and Harry, not liking what she saw, not at all. She took a deep breath. "You should go to Professor Dumbledore if you think--"

"Why?" Harry countered calmly, pulling his wrist free. 

"Why?" she repeated as if he was crazy. "To get help! If you think there's danger here . . ."

"The troll is gone," Harry reminded her. _But not the danger_. It was like a weight pressing against his chest, crushing him. There was something, something . . .

"It's more than the ruddy troll. You wouldn't be looking like-like . . . _that_ if it was just a troll! _Something_ is going on here," Ron interjected.

"Even if there is something larger going on, we're just first years, we shouldn't get involved," Hermione scolded. "We could have died tonight, or worse gotten expelled!"

Ron rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Harry. "Maybe we shouldn't get involved. But _you're_ going to," the redhead said pointedly.

Harry worried the edge of his sleeve, but would not answer. Even if he wanted to explain, there were no words. . .

"Let us help."

Surprised at his dorm mate's offer, Harry blinked and met the youngest Weasley boy's gaze.

"You looked shocked," Ron laughed. "We're Gryffindors. We're always ready for a good death defying adventure. We stick together, that's what being in a House means."

Harry waved a hand and the fire died to embers plunging the common room into darkness, but not covering up the sudden surprised intake of breath from both Ron and Hermione at the sight of more wandless magic. "It's very hard to defy death," the black haired boy whispered, trying to make them understand. "Sometimes it isn't your life you risk loosing."

Harry then turned towards the stairs, navigating flawlessly around the furniture. He may not have good night vision as a bird of prey, but as a human boy he'd had a lot of practice.

Hermione murmured _lumos_ behind him and she and Ron followed.

"Is that a yes? Can we help?" Ron asked throwing an arm around the shorter boy's shoulder.

Harry, surprised by the contact stiffened for a moment. If the Weasley boy noticed he didn't mind. The Boy Who Lived tilted his head silently to the side regarding first one and then the other who now flanked him. 

"It will be dangerous."

"We're Gryffindors, the three of us can do anything!" Ron countered cheerfully as they headed up the stairs as if that was answer enough.

"As long as we don't break any rules," Hermione insisted calmly.

Harry stifled a chuckle at Ron's rolled eyes. The three of them might have changed after the troll, might have bound together tight through shared adversity, but some things never changed.

*****

"So?" Ron asked leaning over breakfast. 

Harry, confused, looked up from his porridge and his book _Quidditch Through the Ages_. 

"So have you figured out how the troll got in? Or what it means? Or if there's really danger? Or why?"

Hermione put aside her review work, now interested in the boys' conversation. Seeing their attention on him Harry poked his food for a moment, thinking of the best way to respond and exactly how much to tell them of his vague dreamlike suspicions.

"A distraction," he said at last in a low voice. "The troll was _let in_ as a distraction."

"Someone let that thing in as a distraction? Distraction for what?" 

"All the teachers were in the dungeon, students in the common room leaving the rest of the castle unwatched," Hermione said with excitement. "Someone could have gone somewhere totally unnoticed.

"They must've failed at . . . whatever. I haven't hear of anyone dead or-or anything stolen," Ron countered.

"Like the Professors will tell the students if something valuable or dangerous is missing," Hermione scoffed. Her eyes lit up imagining the possibilities. "Maybe a rare book is missing from the restricted section and no one knows it's missing yet." Hermione breathed.

"Or maybe something from Professor Dumbledore's office," Ron said getting in on the game. "I heard from Fred and George that his office is full of really weird things. Apperate in and then apperate out!" He said, banging his fist on the table after working it out.

Hermione shook her head. "Hogwarts is the safest place in England. Haven't you read _Hogwarts, A History_? You can't apperate in, you can't even _sneak_ in. There are some incredibly strong wards set by the founders into the very stones of this place."

"Then how did the troll get in?" Ron asked, turning back to Harry who had be listening silently.

"I told you. It was let in," Harry said, attention fixed on his porridge bowl.

"So . . . someone already _inside_ the castle could have used the troll as a distraction," Ron said slowly. "Like . . . like a student or-or a teacher. Like Snape," he added under his breath as he noticed the robed figure come sweeping down the aisle between the tables right towards where Harry was sitting.

"What," the Professor demanded coming to a stop behind the boy "Are you reading Mr. Potter?"

Harry tried to answer without blushing; he could still barely meet the Professor's eyes after the Howler incident. The professor knew this and was using against the boy with absolute ruthlessness. Unable to find words, Harry showed the professor the cover instead.

Potion stained fingers snatched it from him. "Library books are not to be taken from the library Mr. Potter. Five points from Gryffindor."

"But Professor-" Harry began finding his voice. That was his father's old book he'd brought from home. It was Harry's favorite book, the margins were filled with Marauder's notes.

"Do you want to make it ten Mr. Potter?" Snape sneered at him.

"No sir," Harry said quietly as he watched the Potion Master leave with his book under his arm.

"I bet it's Snape," Ron muttered as soon as the man was out of earshot. "Nasty git. That wasn't even a library book!"

"No," Harry countered quietly, remembering Dumbledore watching the Potion Master leave the table while the student's panicked. "It's not Professor Snape."

"Well then who?" Hermione asked surprised. Snape was the most likely candidate. "What did they hope to accomplish with a troll? What do they want?"

"I don't know _what_ exactly," Harry admitted slowly. "But it's at Hogwarts." Harry fixed them with a steely stare. "Whatever it is, it must be powerful, dangerous. Whoever is seeking it is even more powerful and dangerous to let a troll in and to avoid the Headmaster catching them. Either that or desperate."

"But how are we going to figure out what it is? Or who? It's not like anyone will tell us," Hermione said with frustration. 

"Is it that important?" Ron said pointedly wiping his mouth with a napkin and gathering up his bag as it as approaching time for class. "We've just got to make sure it's protected against. . . against whoever."

"Ron I think that all the professors have taken every precaution to protect . . . it. They're not stupid. We're just students. First years."

"Well, they needed our help with the troll and their protections didn't work with him," Ron muttered as the three of them stood.

"On accident. The Professors were headed to the dungeon to take care of it." 

Harry walked at little behind them listening to the two of them work through the problem, arguing back and forth. As they exited the Great Hall Harry stared up towards the staircases and thought of the three headed dog on the Third Floor and the trap door it guarded.

It looked like a pet Hagrid would have. 

Harry resolved to go see the Gamekeeper this afternoon before Quidditch practice and ask him about it as soon as he got his book back from Professor Snape.

******

Later that evening, having been unable to visit Hagrid due to Oliver's fanatical need to practice for the match tomorrow, Harry was making a detour to Snape's office, broom still in hand to pick up his book.

The door was slightly ajar and voices came from inside. Harry carefully tapped on the door but they didn't hear him. Harry told himself firmly he would not be frightened of Snape; he was a Gryffindor and though Snape didn't like him the man probably didn't go so far as to want him dead. 

He pushed to door open and peered inside

Snape and Filch were inside. The caretaker was bandaging the professor's bloody and mangled leg.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "Three heads! Only Hagrid would have such a monstrous creature as a pet. Nicolas Flamel can't even take care of his own inventions . . ."

So Snape had gone to the Third Floor during the Halloween. He'd known it was a distraction as well. He'd been protecting something made by a man named Nicolas Flamel.

Knowing this was not a good time Harry tried to shut the door quietly.

"POTTER!"

The Potion Master's furious yell petrified Harry on the spot. The man whirled around, wand drawn from the folds of his cloak.

Harry managed to stumbled back whispering, "I-I just wanted to get my book back . . ."

The taller man advanced. This was worse than potions class with Snape hovering behind him just like Aunt Petunia, waiting, watching for him to fail. This was Uncle Vernon advancing inexorably . . .

"GET OUT! _OUT!_"

Gasping for breath, Harry sprinted away from the professor, wishing with every step he could outrun the memories that nipped at his heels.

*****

The day of the Quidditch match dawned brilliant and the whole school was in an excited uproar. Harry had somehow remained the Gryffindor team's secret weapon despite having a broom as a first year. For once Malfoy's malicious rumors about how a spoilt Boy Who Live got a special dispensation to get around the "no broomstick" rule had actually helped.

Harry wondered if Draco would be very upset if Harry sent him a politely worded thank you letter after the game.

He entered the Great Hall in his school robes and smelled the scent of sausages frying filling the air. Harry backed out straight into Fred and George.

"And where are you going?" asked Fred as he and his brother lifted Harry by the arms back over the threshold into the Great Hall.

"Breakfast before the game," George insisted. Both boys were already in their Quidditch uniforms. Harry's had arrived yesterday but had been much too large and had to be given out for alterations. "You need to keep your strength up."

Nauseated, Harry took his seat but refused to fill his plate. The sausages sat on a platter like pudgy fat fingers. They reminded him of Uncle Vernon's hands curled up tight.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" Hermione asked solicitously.

Harry shook his head.

Ron laughed. "Too nervous, huh? Charlie used to say he couldn't eat a bite before a game."

Professor McGonagall entered the hall and stopped by the table. "Potter, the uniform is ready. Best go get changed now and then have breakfast," she said firmly. "I expect to be most pleasantly surprised by this year's team," she said in a louder voice catching the attention of the other red and gold clad figures at the table.

"You will be ma'am," Wood said firmly.

She nodded and headed up to the main table. Harry wondered worriedly just how much she had bet on the game and if she would make good on her threat of punishment if he didn't manage to catch the snitch.

But at least win or loose, he'd have a proper fitting uniform like the rest of the team. Happy for any excuse to escape breakfast Harry hurried back to the Gryffindor tower to change.

*****

Hermione stood at the foot of the stairwell leading up to the first year boy's dormitory and called for Harry and Ron to hurry up. She found the game largely ridiculous, especially given the sheer fanaticism the boys had over the sport to the exclusion of all else including studies. But she was proud that Harry had made seeker after Malfoy's bullying behavior during the flying lesson.

Upstairs Ron bounced around excitedly. "Where's your broom?"

"In my trunk," Harry said as he undid his tie and pulled off his buttoned shirt.

Ron propped up the lid and reverently picked up the Nimbus 2000.

Harry took off his wand holster and wand, tucking them under his pillow like Sirius always did. He came over and smiled at his friend's fascination. "It's really fast," he said. "You can borrow it to go flying if you want." Harry offered as he tugged on his trousers and then his boots.

"Really?" Ron said with awe.

"Sure." Harry nodded. "I'll ask Sirius for my Cirrus 7 so we can play 2 man on the weekends."

"But you have practice already on those days," Ron said.

Harry shrugged and caught Hedwig's knowing look from where she sat perched sleepily on his bedside table. "Practice is good, but I love to fly. Snitch or no snitch, flying is the best. Never even played with the snitch before coming here," he confided shyly.

Ron looked up, but whatever he was going to say to Harry was lost as he stared in shock at the faint scars that were unnoticeable, unless you were close, scattered across Harry's still summer tanned skin.

Harry grabbed his uniform sweater and slid it over his head. Ron's eyes caught on the sharp deep mark on Harry's throat and the rippled, horribly burned skin under Harry's left arm. Ron had seen burns on his brother Charlie from his dragon work, and he was surprised Harry could even use his arm with those fragmented rings of blister scorched skin stretching and pulling as he moved.

The scar on Harry's neck told a story the whole wizarding world knew. If it wasn't for the lightning bolt on his forehead, that was the second most recognizable mark of Harry Potter's notoriety. Peter Pettigrew, traitor and Death Eater, had slit Harry Potter's throat here at Hogwarts when he was only six years old letting the boy bleed to death.

And Harry had Lived.

But the burn . . .

"We're going to be late! Oliver's calling for you!" Hermione yelled form down the stairs.

"Coming!" Harry yelled back as he grabbed his robe, slipped it on and laced up the front. Shocked out of his thoughts Ron helped Harry with his wrist guards and gloves and then handed the other boy his broom.

Harry watched Ron's expression carefully. "D-does it look all right?" he asked nervously.

Ron blinked and stared at the shortest boy of their year, dressed in scarlet and gold. The youngest Weasley boy had no doubt that when lined up with the rest of the Gryffindor team it would look like Harry was a child playing a grown ups game.

That was until Harry flattened the Slytherin's on the pitch, Ron thought happily.

"You look great. Let's go before Oliver has a fit," he said and the two boys made their way down to the common room.

*****

Harry dodged another Bludger. He hadn't meant to sink low into game play, but the sight of the snitch was too much to pass up. And if Marcus Flint hadn't blocked him, he would have caught it too. 

Trying to keep one eye out fir the elusive flash of gold, another for Bludgers, Slytherins and other deadly flying objects, it came as quite a shock when his Nimbus got in on the game of Trying To Kill Harry Potter.

The broom gave a sudden lurch. Harry grasped the handle, white knuckled. _What was that?_

But it wasn't over.

The broom was trying to buck him off. 

He couldn't turn the broom, and he couldn't call for help, too focused on trying to stay on as he was taken higher and higher.

Harry distantly heard the cheers as Slytherin scored. 

It took only moments to realize that this was completely out of his control. But Harry wasn't paying attention to that. A familiar sensation of controlled fear filled him, that feeling that creeps behind your eyes when facing an opponent. The carefully controlled rush of danger, readying as you tense for attack. He reached out with his magic, to steady himself, to get the broom back under control--

and came smack up against a wall of power.

Harry was so shocked he nearly let go. Taking advantage the broom gave a violent jerk and twist and Harry found himself hanging by one hand from the Nimbus as the thing fought to shake him free. 

Jerking back and forth like a puppet Harry stared down at the players and the stands far below. Someone down there, someone was responsible for the _wall_ that blocked him.

Someone wanted him to fall to his death, the first year Quidditch player having a fatal accident.

But Harry had wings if need be, and even if he didn't, death wouldn't stop him from figuring out who was trying to ruin his first Quidditch match! He narrowed his eyes and stared through his glasses, trying to make out something, _anything_, a familiar shape of an outstretched wand. _No, no, not from the students. The teachers, the professors and staff, one of them, one of them . . ._

He strained. Everything was shaking about, his whole body shaking. He absently noticed the Weasley twins try and reach him, but the broom seemed to sense their coming and avoided their efforts by flying higher and higher, to where the air was very thin and very cold.

But he didn't care about that. Someone down there was trying to kill him. Green eyes wide, sightless, he stared down, reaching, _feeling, who, who . . . you can't hide, I'll seek you out, where, where, a moment more, a moment more--_

And then there was something else, another presence--

And suddenly his broom was his again and the wall of magic was gone, evaporated without a trace. Harry hooked one leg over the handle and swung himself up in the air and then dove, vertical towards the ground. 

The crowd, enthralled by the spectacle gasped, watching in shock as the tiny red blur seemed to wave his arm, clap his hand on his mouth and then . . .

Harry landed with a thump on all fours on the pitch green. Coughing once the golden snitch popped out his mouth and into his hand. 

He looked up and raised the winged ball. "I've got the snitch!"__

*****

The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open barely a foot, but it was enough.

Harry Potter escaped the Gryffindor Tower.

Closing the door quickly behind him, he couldn't repress a sigh of relief. The importune party in the Gryffindor common room for their first Quidditch victory of the season was a loud, raucous affair. All the adulation, the slaps on the back . . . Harry shook his head. He was uncomfortable around all the attention. 

When he'd first gone out with the rest of the team on the pitch there had been stunned silence and then catcalls from the Slytherins. They stopped, however, the second Harry became airborne.

Anyone with eyes could see Harry Potter was born to fly. And as for playing Quidditch . . .

He rubbed his mouth ruefully. Not the best way to catch the snitch, but Gryffindor had won.

Turning around and tucking his school cloak around him he came face to robe with Albus Dumbledore.

He pulled back a step and stared up and met the smiling face of his mentor. "Is the party over so soon Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

Harry looked back at the portrait covering the hole to his House. "No I . . . I just wanted to send a letter home. How are you Professor?"

"Quite well. Congratulations on your victory."

The green eyed boy ducked his head shyly. "Thank you. I think it was more of an accident really," he admitted quietly.

"Sometimes the most astonishing things happen completely by accident," the old man said in amusement, before turning more serious. "I am sorry I was not at the game. I heard it was quite a moment when you nearly fell."

Harry shrugged and the two of them began walking down towards the main stairwell.

"I expect you will be informing Sirius and Remus of what happened?" Dumbledore asked lightly.

Harry stilled for an imperceptible moment. "I don't exactly know what happened sir," he said cautiously.

"Not at all?" the Headmaster asked in surprise, gripping the banister as the staircase they were on began to move.

"I didn't see any wand," Harry murmured, thinking back. "There was no trace on my broom. It was very advanced."

"Powerful magic. Something few people could do," the man concluded.

"No student could," Harry said. The staircase stopped moving and they found themselves facing the forbidden third floor corridor.

The professor gave him a considering look. "Except you."

Harry stared down into the darkness of the hall. "Except me," he agreed quietly.

"An adult could however. Hmm . . . I'm not sure what I can do." Dumbledore stroked his beard absently. "I suppose you could stop playing--"

Harry tore his eyes away to look up at the headmaster in horror. 

"But that would be rather cruel," he finished with humor. He patted Harry on the shoulder. "It seems . . . necessary, your participation in things. I hear Mr. Wood is most excited about your team this year. I will of course make it a point to be at your next match."

The stairs began to move again, taking them away from the restricted place. "Thank you sir. I don't think whoever it was will try the same trick twice though."

"Oh? And why not Harry? It nearly worked the last time. Without the quick thinking of a few individuals, serious consequences could have occurred."

Harry bit his lip and thought, trying to put his feeling into words. He wasn't the great strategizer Ron was. "If they were smart enough to not leave an obvious trace this time, they would know precautions would be taken next time. Plus it would increase their chances of getting caught if they did it again."

"True, true. Tell me Harry, where is the best place for someone to hide who does not want to be found out?"

Harry frowned, thinking. "The last place anyone would look?" he said at last. "No," he countered, backing up a bit. "A place where no one would look at all."

The staircase finally stopped and they stood at the main level. "No one would look at all," Dumbledore repeated carefully. "That certainly makes searching more difficult. Anywhere you are going to look will prove fruitless and any place you will never look, you will never look to find them. Most frustrating really. Regardless," he said sharply, returning to the point the boy had been trying to avoid most studiously, meeting Harry's eyes with amusement "Your guardians will be most worried to hear of your near accident."

Harry looked away, embarrassed. "I wouldn't have been hurt."

Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, you could have just grown wings and flown away. What a surprise that would have been."

For a long moment there was silence; Dumbledore stood, waiting, patient.

"Sirius worries," Harry at last, staring down the main hall.

"Yes, and I think he has good reason," the wizard said softly, reaching out and placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "He remembers what it was like to be a Gryffindor. Impetuousness. What the Slytherins call foolhardy. I believe . . . your _godfather_ would be very upset with you taking risks, especially if you are walking into a situation unprepared."

Harry closed his eyes. "He'd take me home."

"And do you want to go home Harry?"

"Sometimes," Harry confessed. He opened his eyes and at last met his mentor's gaze. "But Hogwarts is very nice," he said hurriedly, not wanting to insult the headmaster. "It feels. . ."

"What?"

"Magic. Alive."

"Ah," He turned the boy in the direction of the owlry tower and they both began to walk again. "It tends to be both those things, and more. The tale of how the Founders created this place is a story unto itself," he said gesturing with his free hand at the stones, the ceiling, the tapestries, the walls "Have you covered that in History of Magic yet?"

"We're still on the goblin wars," Harry said trying not to sound too put out.

"Which one? I believe there are several."

Colored slightly, Harry tried to remember. "I-I'm not sure, sir."

"Perhaps a little less napping in that class Harry could help," the professor offered wryly.

Harry nodded. He would try, but . . . "Do you know the syllabus for first years?" he asked. "Do we cover anything _other_ than goblins sir?"

"Let me see . . . I haven't seen Professor Binn's syllabus. He wrote his first ones before I became headmaster while he was still alive actually. I don't believe it's ever been revised." They came to a junction of halls and stopped. "This is where you and I must part Harry."

"Will you--will you be writing to Sirius about the game?" he asked anxiously.

Dumbledore stared down at the black haired boy for a long moment before answering. "I shall leave it up to you how much to tell your godfather. Though I would like you to remain at Hogwarts, you can learn so much here," he said quietly. "I found it such an enjoyable experience when I was your age," said, voice growing nostalgic. "Of course things were a bit different back then, but not so different really. The third floor was in use back then. Many more children used to attend, you see. We have so few students now. We had expanded wings on each of the houses I believe." He refocused sharply, suddenly, on the first year standing before him. "Though if you return home, I will of course be visiting. Your studies would continue; I believe that you are almost done with seventh year. I was hoping that we could continue on with expanding your defense knowledge to include some of the ancient rituals, perhaps even some of the more dangerous master level avatar work."

Harry looked away. "I must stay," he said faintly. "I must."

The Headmaster sighed. "Very well Harry. But take time to enjoy yourself; Quidditch, house parties, your year mates, even some . . small rivalry for spice. Though, midnight duels are rather extreme Harry," he scolded gently.

"Yes sir."

"Be careful in your wanderings, my boy. This castle will show you many things."

Harry nodded. "I will."

"And make sure you get back into that party of yours. I think your friends are missing you even as we speak. Have a good evening Harry."

"You too, Professor."

Harry watched as the headmaster turned a corner and then resumed walking the halls, running his hand over the familiar stones of the castle, ambling slowly over to the owlry. Padfoot would be so happy to hear that Gryffindor had won. 

He wouldn't be as happy to know that Harry's broom had been jinxed to throw him to his death.

But that was why Harry wasn't going to tell Padfoot about that little incident. And his godfather would never know because Professor Dumbledore wasn't going to tell him either.

He could stay at Hogwarts long enough to do what was necessary.

Harry nodded his greetings at the various portraits he saw, turning over and over in his mind the jinxing of his broom. He, of course, had not passed Ron and Hermione's suspicions on to the headmaster. 

One did not accuse a staff member.

If someone had asked him yesterday if the Potion Master hated him enough to kill him, he would have said no. Made his life a living hell, yes. But now . . .

The man had been muttering, eyes firmly fixed on Harry as the broom tried to shake him off. He could have only been casting a spell, a curse most likely. Harry couldn't imagine Snape doing something . . . helpful. Not for his benefit.

It had been a long time since he'd felt that rush of battle calm that he'd felt on the pitch. Moor House was safety, warmth, home. Hogwarts for all its magic and power left Harry feeling expectant, anxious, sleepless.

First a troll, then his broom, now the conversation with the Headmaster, _something_ was--

"Potter!"

Harry froze. He forced himself to turn around and meet Professor Snape's eyes. He tried not to tremble. _It wasn't after curfew yet_, he reminded himself. _The Professor can't take points for being in the halls_. 

This however, Harry knew, wouldn't deter Snape if he had a reason.

And Professor Snape always had a reason when Harry was involved.

"My office, now," the other man hissed.

Following behind the swirling black cloak, he hurried to keep pace with the long legged professor. Harry reminded himself that despite the jinx, it was unlikely the Potion Master would kill him in his own office. Just in case, Harry vowed not to drink anything offered. 

Warily he entered the office he'd only peeked in before. Harry stood in front of the dark wood desk that Snape leaned against, much in the manner a vulture did over craggy rocks staring at its meal.

Silence seemed to stretch to infinity.

Harry tried not to fidget.

"I don't think it's gotten into that head of yours, what with it filled with your own . . ._publicity_, Potter, but the halls of this establishment are not to be wandered about by _students_."

Harry gulped and stared at his toes. The professor hissed each word with such precision it felt like he was using each and every one as a very pointy weapon.

"Empty your pockets, Potter!" Snape barked suddenly.

Starting like a deer in headlights, Harry struggled to obey. He reached into his robe's deep pockets and drew out a quill, a handkerchief, a couple of scraps of parchment, a golf ball, an old note from Ron which Harry hoped the Potion Master wouldn't read . . .

"All of it! On the desk." 

Harry dug into his trousers of his school uniform, blushing furiously, and began pulling out fuzzy Bertie Bott Beans, an old kunt, a couple of bent Chocolate Frog cards, some of Hedwig's feathers, a knotted rubber band, some fluff and string, more fuzz, even more fuzz, an unidentifiable piece of _something_ . . .

Harry stared at the shameful collection on the desk. Hopefully none of it was on the forbidden items list, but Harry had a sinking feeling that Snape would find something to confiscate and take points from regardless.

Black eyes examined the pile of boyhood stuff before him. What Professor Snape could be expecting or looking for, Harry couldn't fathom. The professor poked at a few of the items ruefully with the tip of a quill as if expecting them to explode. 

The teacher then raised his head and fixed on the boy standing before him. "What? The great Savior of the Wizarding World without his wand?" He scowled at Harry who shrank further from his gaze. 

"Where is your wand Potter?"

With a flick of his wrist, Harry drew the holly and phoenix feather creation and presented it for the professor's examination. It glowed faintly in his hand, the sheer power in the object evident.

Harry risked a glance at the man and found his expression to be still, pensive, calculating. Professor Snape made absolutely no move to take or touch it. He waved his hand and Harry reholstered the wand.

"Your father," The Professor spat the word, the topic change shocking Harry stiff, "Was under the impression-- much like you --the _mistaken_ impression, that he and his . . . friends had the right to wander about this school, poking about and meddling in affairs that Were. Not. Their. Business."

The Professor whirled around and snatched a familiar book from his shelf.

_Quidditch Through the Ages_

Harry's eyes widened. This was about earlier, watching Filch patch the Professor's leg up.

"Arrogantly, he thought that his . . . _assistance_ was needed where it was not. This type of reckless, idiotic behavior was normal for him and now you seem to feel that you also have the right to act as stupidly, endangering your fellow classmates much the way you endangered Longbottom during class."

Harry remembered, with a sick feeling in his stomach, Neville's pain filled expression that first day of Potions class and how Snape had told him it was his fault for not warning the boy about the porcupine quills.

"I find such arrogance . . . _repulsive_," Snape informed him, staring at him like _he_ was repulsive. "Callous disregard for others even when . . . _encouraged_ through other quarters," he said darkly flipping over one of the Chocolate Frog cards with his quill to reveal the face of Albus Dumbledore "cannot be borne." 

Harry stared from the card up to the Professor.

With a bang, the Potion Master slammed the book down on his desk. "You will refrain from nosing about where you are not wanted, where you do not belong, and where most definitely your presence is unwarranted! _You_ are nothing more than an eleven year old nuisance, much like the rest of your classmates-- ignorant, spoilt, and incompetent. While fame has puffed you up, thinking you are more capable than other mewling brats. Will. Get. Your. Classmates. Killed."

The book thudded against his chest and Harry grasped it with both hands to keep it from falling on the floor. 

"Gather up your rubbish and then get out!" Snape spat.

Hurriedly, grabbing the assorted pile haphazardly strewn across the desk, Harry stumbled out of the office hearing the door slam close behind him. Sinking to his knees, with shaking fingers he began to sort through his pile of belongings.

He held the picture of Albus Dumbledore in his hand. The portrait smiled merrily at him. Harry turned the card over and read the familiar back.

"Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling."

There was his answer. Nicholas Flamel was famous for alchemy and was friends with the Headmaster. For a wild moment he wondered if Snape was helping him, pointing him in the right direction. But the Professor's words sounded like part threat, part insult, part warning. He _certainly_ didn't want Harry involved in . . . whatever was going on, that much was clear. Harry flipped the card back over and stared at Dumbledore's face.

What was Professor Snape trying to tell him, really?

Dumbledore would not send him into danger. He was different from the Dumbledore of the other reality, Sirius and Remus had been very firm at pointing that out.

But what about Ron and Hermione? They had wanted to help, but . . . 

Harry didn't want to think of them being hurt because of him. Because of what he had to do.

The Headmaster knew that Harry had seen the three headed dog, he wasn't stupid. He wanted Harry to stay at Hogwarts, or perhaps he wanted Harry home, Harry couldn't tell, maybe both? But he wasn't going to write to Padfoot. Perhaps he wanted Harry involved?

Professor Snape obviously didn't.

But _why?_

Tucking away his odds and ends, balling up the rubbish to throw away, Harry decided to press on to visit Hedwig and send a letter to Padfoot and Moony about his Quidditch win. He was sure one of them, probably Padfoot what with his wide and esoteric reading habits, knew what Nicolas Flamel had created that was so valuable and dangerous that someone was after it.

Whatever he did or didn't find out, he wasn't going to share it with his friends.

Harry didn't want to be responsible for anyone else getting hurt again.

*****

tbc

So what did you think? There was Snape and Dumbledore for you. There were some more hints about the elusive sausages. Hermione, Ron, and Harry have reached and understanding. There was wandless magic, trolls, plenty of Quidditch, conversations in conversations, and riddles within riddles. Review and let me know what you liked!

**Recommendation for the day**: "The Family Tree" by Grey Pencil. (can be found on my fav story list). I hunted forever for new fic and stumbled on it by accident. This writer is a genius. I only wish I wrote this well. Harry is brought to live with the Dursley's at age 6, taken away from his wizarding aunt and uncle and cousin to live with muggles for reasons you must read and discover for yourself. Perhaps if I had to rank all my dearly loved stories this would have to contain the MOST masterful take on the Dursley's treatment of Harry and Harry's response to that treatment. It is even better, dare I say it?, that "Never Alone, Never Again," which is brilliant in and of itself. This story is not overly dramatic (which can lead to loosing all emotion and caring for a character.) We have Harry, a wonderfully cunning, but not necessarily good Draco, a three dimensional Neville, Snape at his best, Hagrid being Hagrid complete with pink umbrella and of course the DURSLEYS. This story is fantastic. I cannot recommend it enough. It is WIP but the writer when prompted by reviews will drop Real Life to offer up a chapter. So go, read, REVIEW! (I've already begged a chapter and a half and gotten in!) 

**Gallandro-** I got an email from neutral, real life had been busy for her. I'm not sure when she'll get back to Clawtracks. You and I can only hope!

**TeeDee-** Not much Sirius in this chapter. More in next, though the later chapters will shift and have a heavier focus on Hogwarts as things come to a head. But don't worry. Plenty of Padfoot and Moony at the end!

**rayvern-** thanks for the correction. I'll have to go back and fix that. Yes, I agree, Hermione can be very very clever, though my fav part of that scene was after she makes that comment how all three boys just stop, turn, and _stare._

**Darcel-** thanks for the invite. I'm enjoying the group muchly.

**athenakitty-** There will be more Howlers, though not to whom you expect. As you can tell from this chapter, Harry is smart to know that telling Padfoot that Snape might have jinxed his broom is unwise. More of the jobhunt is mentioned in the next chapter.

**Wishweaver-** YOU reviewed my poor offering of a story! WOW! I'm honored! I love your fic! I love your take on Harry. It is writers like you I hope to emulate! I can't believe _you_ are reading _my _story. Wow! ;) Thank you so much for your kind words. Yes Sirius's blood pressure is on the rise and Harry is keeping things from him. Imagine if he told! Thanks for reviewing!

**Riddikulus-** yes Moony is stuck babysitting Sirius while Harry is away at work, I mean school. snicker snicker Harry does know a lot about magic, though Draco is no slouch either as you'll see in the dueling club in second year. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

**Liara-** Wow another Remus fan. I love him in book three. I'm glad you like my portrayal of him here.

**Barbara-** your email was wonderful! Thank you! Thank you! Have you guessed about the sausages yet?

**Von-** I'm hurrying to finish. It is all on my hard drive. At least first year. I'm just doing final edits and posting Yes the rivalries are twisting. Isn't it amazing what a stronger foundation in the wizarding world has wrought? I'm afraid I don't have an update mailing list. I do tend to try and update on Fri/Sat and Mon if I can since I know people work over the summer/have school. At least I do! This week due to work it got pushed to Tuesday, but I am updating. And I have skill? THANK YOU! You've made my day! 


	8. CHAPTER VIII: Harry Through the Looking ...

NOTES: Portions of the text below were lines of dialogue from "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" by JRK and are therefore NOT mine. More comments below.

Please review below. Or email a_sayyar2118@hotmail.com

*****

CHAPTER VIII: Harry Through the Looking Glass

*****

"So Mum and Dad are taking us all to Romania for Christmas to see Charlie," Ron said happily.

Hermione, busy color coordinating her notes with various inks looked up. "Just our regular Christmas at home for me. But it will be nice to see my parents again. I've missed them. What about you Harry?"

Harry looked up from the book he was flipping through, _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_. On the library table before him sat _Alchemy: 1800-1950, Notable Magical Names of Our Time_, _The Search from Lead to Gold: Volume 1, _and _ Important Modern Magical Discoveries_. 

Padfoot hadn't recognized the name Nicolas Flamel. He said it had sounded familiar but he couldn't remember from where. Armed with determination and the Hogwart's library Harry was making his search for the elusive Mr. Flamel to discover what exactly he had invented that was worth breaking into Gringotts _and_ Hogwarts for. Once he knew that, maybe he could figure out _who_ could be after the mysterious object in the first place. 

He'd told Padfoot, Hermione, and Ron that it was a follow up to something out of Professor Binns lectures in History of Magic. Not even Hermione wanted to help him there, though she was the only one who managed to always pay attention the ghost's class.

"Going home as well," Harry said with a smile. "Christmas is always a little crazy at Moor House."

Ron leaned forward eager to hear more about living with _the_ Sirius Black. Harry didn't quite understand the interest in his godfather but didn't mind as the attention wasn't of the spiteful, fearful kind Padfoot faced every time he went out in public.

So Harry abandoned his search-- Nicholas Flamel suddenly unimportant --and in a soft voice he told them about snowball fights and Quidditch in the snow. He spoke about decorating the whole house and waking up the portraits in the forgotten hallways. He told them about the magic lights Sirius insisted they put up all over the outside of the house. He told them about making snow animals instead of snow wizards: dogs, wolves, hawks, and stags. There was Christmas dinner and Christmas crackers and stocking that were emptied on Christmas Eve, presents opened on Christmas morning. And he told them how there was always a present just for him under the tree.

The others listened and shared a look. They'd never seen Harry's green eyes glow with such happiness unless he was flying. When Harry grew embarrassed by their rapt expressions they shared their own stories-- Ron talking about how incredible it would be to see Charlie, his favorite older brother, again and watch him work with dragons. Hermione spoke of how all her relatives, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents would come over and how out of all of them she was the only witch. She told them about how proud her parents were even if they didn't tell the extended family what exactly Hermione was studying at the prestigious boarding school she'd been invited to attend.

Suddenly the holidays seemed so much closer and they joined the eager ranks of students counting down the days until the winter break.

Classes ended in what seemed like a rush and suddenly they were all packed and on the train heading for King's Cross Station.

*****

Harry practically fell out of the car under the tide of students behind him. Hogwarts had released its charges and they were most happy to be free. Harry tucked his gold and red scarf a little tighter against the cold. He'd had not time to change out of his uniform on the train being so caught up in a rousing game of Exploding Snap.

"Ron! Fred! George! Percy!" A warm redheaded woman descended amid the swarming students and grabbed the Weasley boys tight, bestowing embarrassing (though secretly loved) noisy kisses on each.

"Aw Mum!" Ron complained getting free and wiping his cheek off in disgust as Hermione fought to hide her laugher by heading to the baggage car to get her trunk.

Grinning Harry ignored Ron's look of false misery and tried to peer around taller people for any sight of his godfather or Moony.

"Now everyone gather your things! Don't forget anything." Mrs. Weasley took charge of the chaos shepherding her boys and Harry to their trunks. 

Ron tugged on his mum's sleeve, wanting to introduce his friends. Desperate to avoid the scene that would occur at the sight of him, Harry ducked out of the redhead reunion and hurried to join Hermione.

He grabbed his trunk, lightened with a charm and placed Hedwig's cage atop of it. He helped Hermione gather her own belongings, only half listening to her speak as he scanned the platform anxiously for his own guardians.

"Harry. Harry!"

The black-haired boy whirled around to see Hermione giving him an exasperated look.

"You aren't listening at all!"

Blushing, Harry began to mutter excuses when hands grabbed him from behind causing him to almost jump out of his skin. He found himself whirled around and facing the Weasley matriarch.

"Mum, this is Hermione," Ron said. "And this is Harry."

Mrs. Weasley smiled and shook Hermione's hand and then turned to stare at Harry. 

Harry fought the urge to brush down his hair over his forehead. 

Her face softened at the sight of him and she patted his shoulder maternally. "So nice to meet you, Harry dear. Ron's told me all about you in his letters." She gestured at the chaos on the platform. "This place is a madhouse. Families everywhere-- Fred stop pestering and help Percy with his trunk! --porters only letting out a few students at a time, apparation platform clogged, and some _maniac_ came flying in on a great black motorcycle!"

Harry's heart leapt and her words. Not caring about politeness, he let out a piercing whistle that was more akin to a bird's cry than anything human that cut through the din sharply.

A sea of faces turned to face him, but for the first time Harry was completely oblivious to them. His attention was squarely fixed on the black barking blur that plunged through the crowd straight for him.

Screeching, Mrs. Weasley yanked Ron and a baffled Hermione aside. Harry dodged her arms and allowed himself to be bowled over by the giant overenthusiastic puppy.

"Harry!"

"Hey, You all right!?"

"Sweet Merlin, that's a huge dog!"

"Get off him! Harry! Harry!"

But Harry wasn't listening to his friends or the rest of the Weasleys. He was trying in vain to fight down laughter as a wet tongue tickled him unmercifully. Sitting up, Harry threw his arms around the giant dog's neck.

"Er . . . Harry?" Ron asked tentatively discovering his best friend was not crying out in pain at being eaten alive.

The dog stopped and turned to regard the watching Weasleys and Hermione. Dismissing them as unimportant he began to dig his black nose into his prey's unprotected underbelly causing Harry to squeak and bat him away.

"Sirius!" Harry protested, laughing.

With a sudden pop, there was no longer a massive grim-like dog but a black haired man crouched beside the wizarding savior, his hands on Harry's slight shoulders.

"Sirius!" Harry threw his arms back around his godfather's neck, hugging him tight in greeting. The man pulled back and smiled down at the boy.

"Hello Harry! Miss me?"

Harry nodded feverently. 

"Good," Sirius said firmly. "Got everything?" he asked as they both stood.

"My trunk and Hedwig," Harry said pointing to his belongings. 

"Hedwig can fly home I think," Sirius said opening the cage for the snowy owl to fly off. He then shrunk the luggage and placed them in his robe pocket. He then eyed Harry carefully. "I think we won't shrink you," Sirius said with a smile sweeping a startled but delighted Harry up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Sirius then turned, all business and shook Mrs. Weasley's hand. "Please excuse us," he said causally.

Sirius strode through the crowd away from his stunned audience. Harry waved at his friends over Sirius's shoulder.

"Bye Ron, Bye Hermione!" he called cheerfully. "Bye Percy, Bye George and Fred. It was very nice to meet you Mrs. Weasley! Happy Christmas!"

Stunned, only Fred vaguely managed to wave back.

"_That's_ Harry's godfather?" Hermione asked in amazement. "_The _Sirius Black?"

The roar of an engine started and the group watched as the Christmas crowd scattered as a black motorcycle accelerated forward with a squeal of rubber. Harry was sitting in front of Sirius, hands on the handlebars. One of the man's arms was wrapped tightly around his godson's waist, the other on the handlebars of the bike. They watched as the machine rose into the air and shivered then vanished as the invisibility spell took effect. 

"_Well_! That's a fine garden of gnomes, no mistake!" Mrs. Weasley huffed, finding her voice at last. "Riding a flying motorcycle with a little boy, no helmets, no safety spells."

"Brilliant!" Ron breathed.

"Yeah, imagine what our car would be like," George said with shining eyes. 

Mrs. Weasley grabbed his ear. "George Weasley! Don't you even _think_ about flying that car!"

*****

The clouds parted and Harry leaned over staring down, down, down at Moor House far below.

"Home," Harry murmured happily.

He felt Sirius press a kiss to his hair with a smile. "Going down."

They descended rapidly, landing with barely a thump and rolled into the garage. Both got off the bike and hurried inside the warm house. In the foyer Sirius helped Harry unwind his scarf, hanging it up and let Harry balance by holding onto his hands as his godson toed off his boots. Sirius slipped off the boy's outer robe further mussing his wild hair.

"How's my Harry?" he asked warmly.

"Good," Harry said after a moment.

Padfoot smiled, tapping Harry's red nose with a finger, laughing as his godson went cross eyes for a moment.

Sweeping Harry back up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes he strode like the conquering hero into the house. "Moony!" he called playfully. "I'm hooome!"

Harry smothered his glee in Padfoot's robes.

Remus emerged from his study, eyes widening at the sight of the two of them. 

"So you're back are you?" he asked, crossing his arms, leaning against the door jam.

"Yes, the mighty hunter Sirius has returned, as successful as his namesake. See what I caught? He was just all alone, a little hawk, standing in the snow just waiting to be snatched up."

Remus leaned over and winked his greeting at Harry, playing along as he straightened back up. "All alone you say? This little bird? You are very lucky to get a hold of such a rare creature Mr. Padfoot. They are very fierce."

"Oh, I know Mr. Moony," Sirius agreed as they turned and began making their way up the stairs. "These little hawks are very hard to come by."

"So what do you intend to do with him Mr. Padfoot?"

Sirius paused on the landing before nodding decisively. "I'm going to tame him."

"Tame him? Tame this fearsome bird?" Remus poked Harry in the side, prompting protests and laughter from the boy.

"Hmm, it will be difficult, but I refuse to give up. I've already caught him with promises of Christmas dinner and I have managed to lure him into our quite cozy den. Now we must make him comfortable and hope he nests."

"Nests?" Harry squeaked.

"Excellent idea Mr. Padfoot," Lupin said heading down the hall to Harry's room.

"Thank you, Mr. Moony. I do my best."

They entered the room with a flourish, Remus casting a spell for light, Sirius digging absently into his pocket for the shrunk trunk and cage for Remus to unshrink. The black haired Marauder then dropped Harry onto his bed with a bounce.

"A little Harry hawk in his nest," Sirius aid fondly staring down at the boy. He then collapsed onto the bed himself with a thump. He crossed his arms behind his head and sighed in utter relaxation on his old bed. "I think he'll be convinced to stay. It's quite comfortable."

Remus sat cross-legged at the bottom of the bed leaning back with a wriggle against the carved bed post, pillowed by the curtains. "Hmmm, yes. We might just have us a permanent Harry hawk in the house. I think I might just move in here too."

The boy sat up against the headboard. "Mr. Talons has decided to stay," Harry announced.

"Wonderful!" Sirius said, blue eyes looking up and green. "I'm glad you're staying."

Remus looked out of the big bay windows and shook his head. "Dark already. I guess I got a bit caught up in my writing." The werewolf's stomach grumbled in agreement.

Harry reached out and held Moony's ink stained hands in his.

"How's the book coming?" he asked.

"Very well."

"Can I read it?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Sure," Moony said smoothing down the boy's wild hair.

Harry turned and patted Sirius on the head. "What about your job? How is it going?"

"Yes Padfoot, how is your mysterious job going? You're volunteering somewhere right?" Lupin asked very much interested as to where Sirius disappeared to at odd hours of the day. "Gone early in the morning. Sometimes," he confided to Harry "he returns soaking wet, other days muddy beyond belief. He _refuses_ to tell me what exactly he is up to. Me, a fellow marauder. I ask you, is that fair? Perhaps you can get it out of him, Mr. Talons."

Harry turned expectantly, curiosity peeked by the mystery.

"Oh, no!" Sirius said with a laugh. "Trust me Harry, it's very boring. It's just a job."

"Doing what?" Harry asked.

"Oh nothing much," Sirius said vaguely, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. Those eyes would get him if he wasn't careful. Lily used to pull the same trick on James to find out top secret Marauder information and James would always caved. Pathetic really. Sirius was going to be strong. It didn't matter that this was his adorable little godson, with wide green eyes and earnest, innocent looking features. He would be strong. 

"Just stuff, Harry," he said, voice nearly cracking for the first time since he was about 14, much to his embarrassment, and Moony's vocal glee. "Really. It's going fine. A little weather never hurt anyone." Obviously desperate for a change of subject he jumped up off the bed. _Must avoid eyes, must avoid eyes._ "Come on, lets get some dinner, hmm? Padfoot's famous lamb curry is all ready and waiting. We don't want to keep Mr. Moony waiting now do we Young Mr. Talons?"

*****

Something cold and wet touched the back of his neck. Harry jumped and realizing what it was burrowed deeper beneath the covers.

There was a faint popping sound, then: "Harry. Wake up."

"S'morning?" he mumbled into the pillow.

Sirius laughed quietly, rubbing his back through the duvet. "Yes, it's morning, Christmas morning."

Green eyes snapped open. "Christmas?" Harry asked turning to stare at his godfather sitting on his bed.

Sirius nodded.

Blinking sleepily in the morning light, Harry rubbed his eyes. Sirius plucked glasses off the bedside table and placed them carefully on Harry's nose, pushing them gently into place.

Harry propped himself up on one elbow and hugged his godfather with one arm. "Happy Christmas, Padfoot."

"Happy Christmas. Now come on, presents, breakfast, and more presents."

*****

Harry flew high above the Quidditch pitch, searching for the snitch so that the practice game could end and the frozen Gryffindor players could head back inside. Though with the new lined winter cloak from Remus at Christmas as well as the surprise gift of a jumper from Ron's mother kept him from freezing. 

Christmas had also meant a hand carved flute from Hagrid, new custom made gloves and wrist guards from Padfoot as well as several first edition books on rare spells and hexes for duelers, and a book on the Founders of Hogwarts, a secret passion. Harry loved reading about ancient history in the magical world, he just wished Professor Binns wasn't so bigoted against goblins so that they could discuss something,_ anything _else in History of Magic. 

Christmas has also meant finding a package on his pillow in his dorm room when he got back, the note written in a familiar hand.

**You might remember this. Your father left this in my possession before he died. I have kept it since. It is time it was returned to you.**

**Use It Well.**

**A Very Merry Christmas to you.**

Thoughts, possibilities, various warnings, and threats had flashed through his mind at reading it. It left him feeling very funny, like someone had reached into his chest and took hold of his heart in a giant hand. He remembered this from long ago when Moony had snuck into Sirius's hotel room. But Harry hadn't know that it was his _father's_ invisibility cloak, now coming to him with instructions in the Headmaster's hand. 

Absently, he reach out and caught the snitch ending practice.

The Gryffindor team landed, some nursing minor hurts from the rigorous practice, others nearly frozen stiff despite the constant activity. Picking up their equipment after wrestling the two Bludgers to the ground they headed back inside.

"Harry." Oliver stopped him just as he was leaving. "I've just heard. Snape will be refereeing our game against Hufflepuff next week."

Harry blinked. Snape. On a broom. Forget the worry about having the Professor so close to him while flying after the jinxed broom during his first match, this was Snape. On a _broom_. In his mind he pictured a bat with Snape's face on it flapping above the Quidditch pitch, and tried very had not to laugh in Oliver's face.

"It's up to you to catch the snitch as fast as possible, otherwise our dear potion's professor will favor Hufflepuff right into the Quidditch final!" Oliver explained as he steered them both back inside the castle.

Harry nodded. He could very well see Professor Snape (_Snape on a broom? What was the world coming to_?) giving Hufflepuff every advantage over Gryffindor. No doubt his pride still smarted after Gryffindor had flattened his House last time.

Ron did not take the news well. As a Quidditch aficionado he got all the latest Quidditch gossip not only from Gryffindor's team but all the other Houses as well, even, despite their mutual loathing for each other, Slytherin. The youngest Weasley boy was dead set against Harry playing, claiming that the Potion Master would use this as an opportunity to send Harry falling to his doom. He was, for Harry's benefit, concocting ways in which Harry could temporarily incapacitate himself for the game.

Hermione thought Ron had gone totally mad. And told him so. Often.

Harry, however, was determined to play. Sirius had been ecstatic over his first win and had sent him a congratulatory card which had showered Gryffindor table with gold and red confetti the morning after the November match.

Poor Hedwig, tired from an all night round trip had nevertheless been smugly perched on Harry's shoulder for all of breakfast, preening her boy's hair like he was one of her owlets, wearing as proud an expression as is possible for an owl. Harry thought she was just showing off to the Slytherin owls that glowered at Harry much the way their masters and mistresses did.

It only helped Ron's belief that Snape was out to kill him when Potions took on near torturous qualities for Harry. The man stood right behind him as the Gryffindor tried to prepare potions. Every class was a battle not to freeze in fright, to stop his hands from desperately shaking, from letting the world slip sideways and the hated memory of his aunt's shrill voice and his uncle's booming rage filling his ears like a roar. To make matters worse the dark shape of the Professor began to hovered around every corner, practically stalking Harry around Hogwarts.

Over the next week Harry struggled to find time to search for Nicholas Flamel without being watched. He didn't want Professor Snape to catch him. Ron and Hermione were growing suspicious about his "project" as well, but Harry desperately wanted to keep them away from his search for fear they would get hurt.

Abandoning sleep, he took to slipping on the silvery, near liquid cloak and heading to the library in the dead of night. For hours he read, even venturing into the Restricted Section reading from books he could trust not to give him away to Flitch and Mrs. Norris. He was on Volume 17 of _The Search from Lead to Gold_ which incidentally was written entirely in a bastardized form of French and Latin, which meant he had to carry around several massive dictionaries just to read the thing, and still there was no mention of Nicholas Flamel's great invention.

Practice only intensified, class work grew. Harry developed shadows under his eyes.

*****

Harry wandered down the corridor at night, brushing his fingers along the rough hewn walls as he walked, eyes closed. His feet knew the way to the library well enough now. He pushed open the door in silence and taking two steps forward bumped into a desk. Steadying both it and himself before he fell, Harry opened his eyes and blinked about the dusty space of the classroom in mild surprise. He had no idea where he was, only that somehow the castle had lead him here instead of the library. 

Checking around to make sure that there was no one there, Harry made sure the door wouldn't lock behind him before closing it softly.

He pulled off his father's cloak and stared at the large sheen surface of the mirror that stood reaching the ceiling of the small classroom.

It was a golden framed with intricate carvings. Across the top was carved the words _erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

It was like no language Harry had ever seen.

He stepped closer cautiously.

But any thoughts of worry and fear seemed strangely far away right now. It was as if this room was sealed from the rest of the world, silent, calm. The castle hummed with night energy and curiosity drove Harry closer. He stepped in front of it and whirled around with a cry.

The classroom was empty behind him.

Breathing very fast, he turned back slowly, eyes wide as he took in the scene in front of him. 

There was Padfoot and Moony, but they looked so _young_ and they were beaming at him like they had a secret to share. And they did. They pulled two other people into Harry's view.

The woman had red hair, bright green eyes and was smiling, smiling, so happy. She was crying, laughing and crying, she reached out to touch him-- 

Harry _knew _her.

He'd never seen a single picture, never managed to work up the nerve to ask, too afraid of upsetting Padfoot and Moony, but he _knew._

"Mum," Harry whispered, standing close to the mirror now, hands pressed against the glass as if he could fall in and just hold her.

And the man beside her, with his wild hair and oh so familiar features. Harry had met a James Potter once before in the other world, a bitter, broken man, but this man, _this_ man . . .

This was _his_ father.

"Dad," he said softly, smiling. 

They were alive.

And Sirius was messing up his father's hair who batted his friend away, laughing. And Remus had dug out a handkerchief for his mother, and they were all waving and smiling. Harry stared and stared; he couldn't get enough of seeing the four of them, seeing the way they were together. There was this ache in his chest, and he had to fight to breath, like he was about to cry, but he never cried, he never--

Remus seemed so confident and at ease like a wolf that finally had his pack about him, complete at last. Sirius was pure joy, playing, pranking, happy, so so happy, no longer tinged with the slightly manic edge left over from Azkaban. The shadows were gone from both of them. Harry could see the difference between his guardians and it was so striking his body shook.

His mum placed a concerned hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Harry gasped, his skin tingling as if he really felt her hand there. His father's eyes shone with pride, not distant anger or regret; he was everything he'd been told Prongs was. There was love in his eyes, love and safety and warmth.

And he didn't know how long he stood there, nose practically pressed up against the glass watching them, smiling as they waved, Remus lounged on a couch comfortable in his own skin grinning at his friend's son through the glass, his mother blew him a kiss . . .

"Harry."

. . . Padfoot brushed a gentle, familiar hand through his hair, Prongs had reached around him to hug him from behind, Harry could swear he felt the warmth and strength of those arms. He wanted to lean back against his father's strong chest and close his eyes and let all of his worries go, let every fear vanish in the safety he provided, but that would mean not seeing, not seeing their faces, and he couldn't look away, would never look away; he was safe, safe, safe--

"Harry, come away. Come away now."

Someone dragged him away, and the image faded. "No--!"

He scrambled for a moment, trying to pull free, get back in front of the mirror—they couldn't be gone, they just _couldn't!_ --but that hand was immensely powerful. 

"Harry, Harry!"

Someone was calling his name, the voice was familiar. Harry managed to look up. Shocked, Harry gasped and stopped fighting.

It was Professor Dumbledore.

The Headmaster led him from the mirror gently as if he were the one made of glass.

Blinking, Harry stared around the sunlit classroom. It was morning.

"W-what?" he managed in bewilderment.

A hand on his chin forced him to focus on the Professor. "I am so sorry Harry. I had placed wards around this room to prevent students from finding the Mirror of Erised, but somehow this old castle let you through."

"Mirror of Erised?" Harry could only echo, trying to being some semblance of order to his thoughts. He could still feel his father's arms around him, see his mother's--

"Yes, Harry that is what it is called. I had not taken into account Hogwart's own . . . independence in this matter. This mirror has caused people to waste away in front of it, driving some mad with what it shows."

"Mad?" Harry asked in disbelief. Who could be driven mad when faced with such a wonderful picture?

"It shows us the most desperate desire of our innermost heart. It gives neither knowledge or truth," the Headmaster explained quietly.

Harry looked back at the framed mirror now, eyes no longer caught on the image in the glass but the words at the top. _I show not your face but your hearts desire._

"It wasn't real," he said quietly. "It never was and it never will be."

"Harry, once again I must apologize. With your . . . personal history, this mirror is more dangerous to you than most. I should have realized that Hogwarts would bring you here with you working yourself into exhaustion." The old wizard rubbed Harry's shoulder comfortingly. "Such tired eyes, my boy. What is it that you have been scouring the library for night after night?"

Harry bit his lip and wondered if he should tell. "Nicholas Flamel's great invention, sir," he admitted.

"Ah," Dumbledore nodded and smiled. "You have been doing this properly haven't you? What volume are you on in _Search from Lead to Gold_ if I may ask?"

"I just finished volume 17, sir."

"One wonders when you find the time for such simple things such as sleep and eating," Dumbledore scolded gently. "Neither your godfather, nor your professors or classmates, nor I would have you wasting away before our eyes due to the mirror or your own actions. Let the library be for a few days. And when you do visit, perhaps do so _before_ curfew, hmmm? Take some time to rest, to sleep. I believe you have Quidditch game coming up tomorrow."

The two of them made their way to the door; Harry had to fight not to turn around and get one last glimpse of the mirror.

"The mirror will be moved," Dumbledore said gently, guiding the boy into the corridor and closing the door behind him with a finality that shook Harry. "I ask you not to go looking for it again for the castle seems only too happy to aid you in your searches."

Harry blushed, and ducked his head. "Yes sir. I-I'm sorry I--"

The Headmaster raised a hand to stop him. "Do not apologize, my boy. Its call is most potent; I should have taken greater precaution." Out of thin air he pulled out a note. "I believe that you have missed breakfast and Professor Snape is missing you from his class."

Harry stared at the letter and paled.

"I don't think you should spend the time going back up to the tower for your books," Dumbledore said with amusement as he placed Harry's bag over his shoulder. "Professor Snape seemed most anxious about your absence when he informed me you were not in class this morning."

Shocked, Harry could only accepted his school bag and grip the excuse note pressed into his hand. Stammering his goodbyes and thanks to the Headmaster he bolted for the Potion classroom.

*****

That night Harry slept fitfully. Nightmares formed of the dreaded green light stealing away his parents amid a high pitched laugh. Dementors stalked his dreams like dark shapes pulling a dull eyed Sirius into the black with them. Remus changed, screaming in the pain of the transformation, clawing and biting and injuring himself until blood matted his fur and he shuddered and lay still. 

It was Ron who came and shook him from his sleep, rescuing him from his dreams, who sat with him as he clutched at his blankets with white knuckled hands, teeth clenched trying not to scream. 

It was Hedwig who woke him in the morning, her wings brushing against his face. Blinking, Harry sat up finding himself tangled amid his sheets in one tiny corner of his bed, Ron sprawled across the covers taking up the rest of the room. Smiling softly, he brushed Hedwig's feathers in good morning and getting up made sure to cover Ron before heading for the bathroom.

Harry, having avoided Ron's well meaning attempts to injure him, dressed in his uniform, grabbed his broom and headed out with the rest of the team to face Hufflepuff. Knowing his friends were prepared for the worst, bringing their wands along for the game made him smile even in the face of potential death.

He mounted up, trying not to stare too hard at Professor Snape, (_Snape! on a broom_!) for fear that he would fall off laughing and save whoever was trying to kill him the trouble. Harry began to search the skies for the snitch.

Lee Jordan announced the first plays loudly, and Harry kept an ear on what was going on, his eyes searching for gold or the whooshing black shape of the Bludgers careening about. As per Oliver's tactics, Harry stayed far above the Chaser play to prevent tricks from knocking him out of the game. 

Watching the first skirmishes as Fred and George swooped about, he head Professor Snape's voice cut through the cheering and Lee's announcements, calling out a penalty against Gryffindor. 

Oliver was right, he had to finish this match quickly.

Harry rose and stared down at the Quidditch play swirling below him, gold and black, scarlet and yellow. Suddenly a flutter of shining light caught Harry's eye.

Like a shot Harry went into a spectacular dive, shooting straight down-- 

--so fast he brushed passed the chasers knocking the Quaffle into Gryffindor possession and nearly causing a four person midair accident and then--

"Foul Gryffindor!" 

--Lee was screaming that-- 

"--ook at him go!" 

--he flew past the stunned Potion Professor, nothing more than a blur, missing him by mere inches practically knocking the man off his Comet--

The ground was rushing towards him.

"He's seen the-" 

Reaching out lighting fast he snatched the snitch.

"Harry Potter catches the snitch! Gryffindor wins!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, shouts, and whistles. No one could remember the snitch being caught so fast, ending the game so quickly.

Letting the golden winged ball flutter faintly in his palm, Harry grinned. He looked up and saw the Professor staring down at him, barely hanging onto his broom with a bitter snarl on his face.

"Harry!" Katie yelled, waving as she flew over to him along with the rest of the team. He was nearly knocked off his Nimbus by Oliver's pounding on his back, the crushing hugs, the deafening excited screams.

"Go Go Gryffindor! Go Go Gryffindor!" their housemates cheered, waving red and gold flags excitedly.

They descended to earth in a pile of brooms and arms and legs, but Harry soon found himself hoisted up on the twin's shoulders. He blushed red and with embarrassment causing Fred and George to laugh, but they wouldn't let him down no matter how much he pleaded.

He stared down at the students and caught sight of Hermione and a bloodied Ron supporting a collapsed Neville who were waving at him, yelling their heads off.

The night and its horrors seemed very far away now.

They'd won, they'd won!

For the first time in years Gryffindor had the chance of meeting Slytherin in the finals and winning. 

*****

There was talk of another party in the Gryffindor tower to celebrate. Harry wanted nothing more than to beg off, knowing he'd be the center of attention. Using the need for a shower as an excuse he escaped to the locker room to change, finding he indeed had a locker with a spare set of school robes hanging neatly, waiting to be used. Carrying his broom over his shoulder, he headed back out onto the grounds, relieved to find the crowds had disappeared.

He was just about to head back inside and brave the Gryffindor common room before Ron, no doubt, came to look for him, when he saw a cloaked figure hurry out across the grounds. He'd recognize that prowling stride anywhere.

Professor Snape.

The Potion Master was headed into the Forbidden Forest.

Without a second thought, Harry mounting his Nimbus 2000 and took off after him, silently following behind, dodging tree limbs and branches as he kept the man in his sights. 

In a dark clearing, the Professor at last stopped, but he wasn't alone.

"I-I d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus . . ." 

It was Professor Quirrell, Harry realized, moving as close as he dared.

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone after all."

The Philosopher's Stone? Was that what Nicholas Flamel created? And what was that about students? Did the Professor know he was watching?

Realizing he'd missed a bit of the conversation, Harry leaned forward.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I--"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell."

"I don't know what you--"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

"B-but I d--don't--"

"We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie."

Professor Snape then left the clearing. Stunned, Harry could only hover in the growing darkness eyes drawn to the unmoving form of Quirrell who looked as if he'd been turned to stone. A sudden burning pain on his forehead had Harry gasping in pain. Quickly, before he was heard he flew back out of the Forest.

The pain began to fade as he approached Hogwarts. He landed and stared up at the magically lit castle. What had that conversation meant? Harry hadn't thought that Snape could be after this Philosopher's Stone, whatever it was. Maybe he was preventing other people from getting it? Dumbledore trusted him, had known he'd gone to the Third Floor corridor during the troll attack. Filch had bandaged the wound himself. 

_But if Professor Snape had gone up there on the Headmaster's orders why didn't he go to Madam Pomfrey to be healed? _a voice whispered worriedly in his mind.

The Potion Master also wanted to know how to get _past _the three headed dog, and didn't want students like Harry figuring things out. If he was helping protect this Philosopher's Stone under Dumbledore's orders then how come he didn't know himself?

But the Headmaster wouldn't let someone he didn't trust in the school, would he?

_Professor Dumbledore isn't perfect_, the voice whispered again. _He's human, he makes mistakes. _

Was that what the note on the invisibility cloak meant? 

_Use It Well._

What was going _on_? Harry felt as if he was missing something key, something crucial and this whole mess would make sense and he would finally, finally know why he was supposed to be here at Hogwarts at all.

Taking a deep breath and filled with new resolve, Harry hurried up the steps and into the library and over to the shelf on Alchemy. He'd kept out as per Dumbledore's request, but the Quidditch match was over, and surely this was important enough to do a little bit of research before attending the party in the common room.

He stared up at _The Search from Lead to Gold_ volumes 1 through 34 and wished for the hundredth time for an index or that he could risk asking Hermione and Ron for help. Despite what Ron had said at Halloween about Gryffindor's sticking up for each other, protecting one another, Harry couldn't bear the thought of them being hurt because of what he must do.

It was bad enough the last time he'd had a dream so powerful, that he couldn't prevent Padfoot and Moony being dragged into the adventure with him.

Where Padfoot had been so horribly tortured.

_No_, he steeled himself. _Professor Snape might be bad, but he was right about one thing._

Harry's own risk taking would only get others killed. If he was going to be a "foolhardy" Gryffindor he would risk himself and no one else.

_No more blood on my hands_, he thought to himself, clenching his fists tight. _No more_.

Dragging a chair over from one of the study tables he perched nimbly on its back and reached for the top shelf for Volume 18. He must have been more tired than he thought because he lost his balance and fell with a thump on the stone floor. A good half a dozen books fell on top of him and Harry rubbed his head ruefully, hissing under his breath at the pain.

He stared up at the massive bookshelf and scowled. He'd never fell before. Sighing, he sorted through the mess of books his eyes caught on very words he'd been looking for: Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone.

He picked up the book and stared at the spine. 

Volume 19. 

It figured.

But then what was it that Professor Dumbledore had said? "The castle seems only too happy to aid you in your searches."

Harry reached out and patted the cold floor stones of the library in thanks; it was worth the bruises to not have to slog through Volume 18. He read through the entry quickly realizing that the Elixir of Life was something so powerful that most anyone would want it. Immortality and unlimited gold, wasn't that what everyone wished for in the stories?

But that widened the field of potential suspects greatly and made the situation much more dangerous.

The Elixir of Life was so valuable that anyone crazy enough to break into Gringotts _and_ Hogwarts to get it wouldn't hesitate to kill for it. 

Unlimited personal gain and the unlimited life to enjoy it with. That was valuable enough that perhaps some of the Hogwarts' staff couldn't help wanting it for themselves.

Including Professor Snape

Replacing the books he headed up to the Gryffindor tower, deep in thought.

Seamus grabbed him the second he entered through the portrait hole, shoving a glass of punch into his hand. "Where have you been? We can't have a party without you! We're in the finals!"

"Yeah and I managed to give Malfoy a black eye," Ron said smugly, joining the two of them, his nose still slightly swollen from its earlier bleeding. "Neville took on Crabbe and Goyle single handedly. He's still out cold but Madam Pomfrey said he'd be all right. Bravest thing, really." The redhead caught the look on Harry's face and frowned. "Harry, what is it?"

The green eyed boy shook his head and forced a smile. "Nothing, Ron."

*****

Like the last chapter this one covered quite a long period of time and a number of events. It feels kind of jumpy, but it will calm down plot wise next chapter all the way to the end. First book is like that thought, it is a series of stories and individual events leading up to the end of the year. The other books have a much more cohesive story arch, not that I mind if you guys don't. grin

Harry's solving a lot of this mystery on his own even after sort of promising Ron and Hermione he wouldn't. That is going to cause some tension when the truth comes out! ;) But Snape really did a number on him at the end of last chapter. I hope you guys like how Snape is turning out. I don't want him going soft, neutral was very firm about that. 

And I hope you guys also liked the Mirror scene. I wasn't sure if it worked, but what I really loved about the book was how Harry really gets caught up in the mirror and even Ron tells him not to keep going back, but Harry can barely think during the day, his every thought consumed by the mirror. I hope I did that part justice. 

So review please and let me know what you thought of Snape and the Mirror, Christmas and Quidditch.

**Recommendations**: I would recommend "Never alone, Never again" by Bored Beyond Belief to be read but that would be like recommending you guys to breathe. You'd be fools not to go read it. So I shall also recommend another wonderful story and in keeping with the Snape discussion above it is a Serveritus (I hope I spelled that right) Challenge fic called "How Soon the Rain" by Artemisu. The first chapter kind of threw me, but give it time and keep reading. This story is rich in detail, and starts in sixth year, hinting at the battles Harry fought in fifth year. An AU with very interesting takes on all of our favorite character as well as some new ones that are unobtrusive and supporting minor characters only that in no way detract from the tale. Lots of stuff about Slytherin, some parselmouth moments, and some great details about school life at Hogwarts. Sometimes writers and readers tend to forget that this is a SCHOOL! If there are those of you who don't like to read Serveritus Challenge fics, check out "Old and Ancient Magic" by Angel of the North. You've got to focus when reading this one, as it feels like you've come in during the middle of a film at the cinema. But some wonderful Narnia references and it starts with a most unexpected death and goes from there.

**Review Comments**: Thanks to all of you who reviewed! 

**Athenakitty**- Harry got the Quidditch Through the Ages book back from Snape at the end of the last chapter. As for a potion to help with the neglect and abuse he suffered as a child, I don't think such a fix all exists. Harry suffered a lot in Western Stars which has had a permanent effect. For all the powers of magic, some things time heals and as the Sorting Hat said earlier, some things never heal.

**Liara**- having an all powerful hero is boring. Harry is powerful, but even he has his limits plus, a lot of what he knows is theory only. Remember first chapter. He can do things on instinct, but sometimes it is careful thought that is needed. School isn't in any way wasted on Harry educationally or socially.

**Bored Beyond Belief** - aiiiiieee! You. Reviewed. My. Story. THANK YOU! You and neutral were the first Harry Potter FF that I ever read. You inspired me! And now you review. Yay! I love your fic, (see the rec above, see? See?) As for this being a ff of a ff, I've never heard that term. In other fandoms it was called "playing in someone else's sandbox" which sounds much better to me. grin I'm glad you approve of my take on WS Harry; he is very difficult to write. As for Sirius and Remus, I have such fun writing those two. They are great characters with a lot of emotional baggage you can play around with in stories. As for Dumbledore, I'm glad you think I managed to capture his spirit. I love him in your fic too. I think it is too easy to just paint him manipulative or crazy. Thank you for your comments. I have struggled to make this more than a rewrite of 1st year. I am glad you think I succeeded. 

**NightSpear**- Canon Snape is a must. I love his character. Dumbledore's conversation with Harry worked on so many levels, I am glad you enjoyed it. I didn't want to give much away, but you can tell there are things being said and _things being said_ between the two of them. As for what happened with the AU Dumbledore, I've given you all I've got: the man was afraid and wary of Harry's power at age eight and took ruthless advantage of it for his own world's benefit, uncaring of the boy himself. For more, go bug neutral. Grin

**me**- I totally understand how that could happen. Harry has quite a bit of power and is very focuses. This first year he attended Hogwarts mostly because of his dream and premonitions. And no, your criticism was not rude. Trust me I've heard rude, people telling me never to write again, and more rude personal comments—you were polite, explanatory and honest. Thank you. Hermione and Ron _are _being left out of the loop, that was something neutral and I discussed before I started writing. I've tried my best to explain Harry's motivation for doing so. Is he wrong for doing so? Yes as he will find out. He needs them, but as they are the first children he's met his own age since Dudley, he is just learning. He was ready to tell them quite a bit in the troll chapter before his conversations first with Dumbledore and more importantly Snape. If you chose to continue to read, you will see what happens when those two find out what Harry has been keeping from them which will be over the next few chapters. If you choose not to read anymore, please feel free to check out the recommend fics. Thank you again for your valid criticisms.

**Darcel**- what happened in the other world? See Nightspear's comment above, she had the same question. Thanks for the review. And no I don't mind the link.

**Von**- Snape's words did isolate Harry, playing on a very real fear for the boy. But was Snape doing it in some twisted way of being kind? Hmm the age old question of the real Severus Snape. As for the Nimbus 2001, thanks for the reminder, I can picture the scene now . . . "Sirius what are you doing?" "Buying a broom." "Another one? Harry has TWO brooms!" But Moony! This is a Nimbus 2001, he needs the best broom to play Quidditch." "Ah so you ARE letting him go back to Hogwarts next year!" sputters "I-I said nothing of the sort. It's dangerous!" "Then put the broom down. Put it down! Bad Padfoot! Drop the broom!"

**Lia Santana**- I have my first squealing (squealing? Squeaking is much more dignified) fan girl! Ha ha ha ha haaa ha! Harry is darker at age 11. _Clawtracks_ had some powerful effects on the boy. I'm a huge Draco and Harry fan too! I'm glad you liked them. I want their interactions to be more than just bullying, that I believe is a misuse of Draco's great character. Sirius and Remus come to teach at Hogwarts after second year. 


	9. CHAPTER IX: The Midnight Snack Club

NOTES: I would like to say thank you to all of those who reviewed, not just the last chapter, but those who have reviewed more than once showing such interest in this piece. Those of you who write know how much feedback is valued and enjoyed. Thank you for your comments, criticisms, praise, questions, concerns, and opinions. They mean more than I can say. Everyone in the Hp fandom has made this experience great and a whole lot of fun.

Once again due to ff.net peculiarities, words between // // count for letters sent.

Some of the dialogue included herein is taken directly from JKR book. That makes it NOT MINE. Just FYI

Now read and enjoy!

*****

CHAPTER IX: The Midnight Snack Club

*****

"Watch it!" Ron yelped as he helped Harry steady himself and the tower of books the black haired boy was returning to the library. Ron winced at the sight of the titles Harry was returning. "Who knew Hermione could be catching?" he said to himself taking a few of the tomes out of Harry's arms before his yearmate was squashed. 

"Next thing you know _you'll_ be living in the library," Harry teased.

Ron shuddered in revulsion.

"Using color coded inks," Harry continued with a grin "organizing your notes, staying awake for History of Magic--"

"Okay, now that's not funny, Harry," Ron said scowling. "Not even _you_ manage that most of the time."

They entered the library and placed the books on Madam Pince's desk. "What on earth is so fascinating about this?" Ron asked with a disgusted look on his face as he picked up one of the books to stare at the cover. "I can understand some of those elf wars and really ancient magical battles you told me about-- those sound incredible, especially the way you tell it --but the history of _alchemy_?"

Harry shrugged, not meeting his best friend's eyes, knowing he wouldn't be able to hide the truth and knowing Ron would want to help.

They searched among the stacks, finding Hermione buried in exam preparation despite the first test being ten weeks away. 

Ron shot Harry a look that quite clearly said *_that girl's mad*_ before he slumped down beside her with a sigh. Harry was about to take a seat across from the both of them when someone bumped into him from behind, nearly sending him sprawling.

A massive hand steadied him and Harry looked up and found Hagrid was already offering apologies.

"It's all right, Hagrid," Harry said. "I should have . . ." he trailed off as he noticed the book clasped in Hagrid's other hand.

_Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_

Looking up with wide green eyes, he met the groundskeeper's worried face. That book could only mean one thing. "Hagrid, where did you get one?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"Get what? Harry are you all right?" Hermione asked abandoning her studies, curiosity piqued at the sight of the Gamekeeper in the library.

Hagrid hid the book in his moleskin coat's voluminous pockets.

"A dragon," Harry said in amazement. "You've finally got a dragon."

"A WHAT?" Ron exclaimed.

"Keep yer voices down," the bearded man waving a hand at them to keep quiet lest they attract the attention of the librarian. "Won it off a stranger in the pub last night. Got to keep the egg all toasty warm till it hatches," he said with a pleased smile.

"But breeding dragons is illegal in Britain. It has been since 1709," Hermione said in a familiar strangled tone that she got every time someone did something against the rules. 

"I ken keep it safe, I know dragons. And I got myself the book," Hagrid countered patting his pocket. "Always wanted a dragon, yeh know. Raise it up right, take care o' it, teach it like a good mummy."

Ron and Hermione were staring at the giant man like he'd grown a second head.

"I'll let yeh know when it hatches Harry," Hagrid said, eager no doubt to share his impending joy. "Yeh can even bring yer friends along. Jest-jest keep it a secret, eh?"

Harry didn't have to think about it. No matter how unwise it was to not report Hagrid's illegal breeding activities, he knew how important it was to the man, and just having the egg could get Hagrid the sack. Harry promised his friend. "I will."

Hermione let out a gurgle of disbelief behind him.

Nodding and smiling in relief, Hagrid left the library.

"Harry!" Ron hissed as he helped Hermione take her seat; the poor girl was beside herself with the rule breaking conversation that had just happened in her presence. "I get that Hagrid is your friend, Charlie used to have tea with him too and discuss things like, well, dragons . . ."

Hermione managed a weak sputter.

"But," Ron continued "Perhaps keeping this a secret is, well . . ."

"Suicide!" Hermione managed. "Or worse, worthy of _expulsion_!"

Harry turned to face them. "Look," he said sharply, surprising them with his slightly forceful tone. "Just _having_ that egg could get Hagrid in all sorts of trouble, probably cost him his job. We should help him try and figure a way out of this, not go running off to tell just because it's a little risky." 

Ron was reluctantly nodding in agreement with Harry's reasoning. Hermione on the other hand . . .

"A little risky?!" Hermione screeched. At Ron's hissed "shhh!" she dropped back down to a whisper. "A _little_ risky? The man wants to raise and hide a dragon in his _wooden_ house!"

Hermione did have a point. Harry bit his lip as he tried to think of some way to get Hagrid out of this situation, before the eventual fire ensued. "Charlie!" he said suddenly turning to Ron.

Ron looked at him as if he'd just lost all his Exploding Snap cards. "Harry, I'm Ron remember?" he said slowly. "Are you sure you're getting enough sleep lately?"

Harry waved away his dormmate's concern absently, "No, Ron, your brother Charlie. He works with dragons in Romania right?" At the redhead's nod, Harry continue. "Well, what if we owl him and get him to take Hagrid's egg before it hatches? We can do it without letting the teachers or the Ministry know Hagrid ever had it in the first place."

Hermione was struggling not to hyperventilate. "That could work, but if we get _caught--_!"

Ron rolled his eyes at her hysterics. "It's a good plan. We just need to keep this quiet and hope we can get this sorted out before it hatches. I'll write the letter and we'll send it off with Hedwig right now. Better to use her than school owls, someone might notice if we send one of them all the way to Romania."

"And if we don't get this cleared up in time and it does hatch?" Hermione said as she gathered up her books and notes. Both boys stood, ready to head back to the Gryffindor tower where Harry had left Hedwig this morning.

"It won't," Ron said in exasperation. "We'll send off the egg and Hagrid will be in the free and clear. What could possibly be simpler?"

They turned to leave their alcove when they heard a thump and hurried footsteps running for the library entrance. Sharing a shocked glance they realized they had had an eavesdropper.

Scrambling, they ran after the spy. Amid the stacks of books Harry, who was the fastest, managed to catch sight of a distinctive head of silver blond hair just as the figure escaped from the library.

"Who?" Hermione wheezed beneath her back as she managed to catch up to him.

"Malfoy," Harry said with dread. The boy would go straight to Professor Snape, Harry was certain.

Ron moaned. "Bugger, we're doomed."

*****

But the axe did not fall. For the rest of the day, the three Gryffindors walked cautiously, but they were not stopped by any teacher, they were not dragged summarily to the Headmaster's office. In every class they shared with the Slytherin, Draco made a point to smirk at the three of them.

Often.

It made them realize that their stay of execution was a temporary reprieve only.

Ron struggled not to pound the other boy into the ground. Hermione was so nervous she spaced off for five minutes in class no doubt missing key notes. Harry could only think that Draco had something worse planned if he was holding back with information this good. _What would soon follow?_ Harry thought with a sinking feeling growing in his stomach. _Blackmail? Public humiliation?_ What would happen to Hagrid who loved Hogwarts, who was one of the most gentle men Harry had ever known?

Whatever game he was playing at, Harry refused to let Malfoy win. 

They'd sent Hedwig off and Harry knew it would take quite a few days for her to return, and during that time he couldn't write a reply to Padfoot's and Moony's latest letter. He wasn't too worried about his guardian's reaction about impending dragon smuggling, but they would grow concerned if Harry didn't reply soon and he couldn't use a school owl.

He pushed away his doubts; Harry had learned that they served no purpose. If you were going to do something against the rules like sneaking out, or stealing food from Dudley, it was best to go all the way and accept the consequences as they came.

Besides this was Hagrid, who had been a good friend this term, always inviting him down for tea, rock cakes, (thought he could do without those) and exciting stories. 

And there was something else, something . . . _off _about the whole situation, beyond waiting to see what Malfoy had up his sleeve. Harry struggled to wrap his mind around it, this nameless anxiety that rose upon learning that Hagrid had found a dragon egg, (beyond the obvious of course) but his worry was faceless, nameless.

Returning his attention to the charms lesson, Harry faked the correct wand movement, reaching out wandlessly to complete the practical portion of the class, ignoring the surprised look from Seamus.

*****

Sirius stood by the post basket, tea cup in his hand, staring out of the window for the familiar white form of Harry's owl.

"No letter?" Remus asked from behind him as a way of morning greeting.

"Harry always sends a reply. It's been a week," Padfoot said distantly. "Suppose something's happened?"

"There's been no contact from Dumbledore or any of the other professors?"

Sirius shook his head. "None." 

Remus frowned. Abandoning his breakfast preparations he ducked into the living room to stare at the clock. Harry's hand was firmly set on School where it had been since term had resumed. Wandering back into the kitchen, the werewolf finished pouring his tea absently.

"Maybe he had to send Hedwig off on an errand?" he offered, grasping at straws.

Sirius didn't answer, simply continued to pace in front of the window. Finally giving a snarl of defeat, the black haired marauder slammed his cup down on the counter and headed for the clock, wand drawn. With a complex wave and an incantation the area on the clock designated School split off into several smaller sections not used, no doubt, since Sirius's own childhood. 

Harry's hand wavered for a moment between Class and Mischief and then settle firmly on Mischief.

"Ha! Well, well, so Mr. Talons is up to something, is he? _And_ he hasn't deigned to share it with Messrs. Padfoot and Moony?" Sirius said with a delighted smile. He rubbed his hands together with glee. "I bet he's waiting for it to come to its final, hilarious conclusion before writing back."

"It's so comforting to know that the younger generations have not forgotten the old ways, isn't it Mr. Padfoot. Mr. Prongs would be so proud." Remus said coming to stare at the clock with a relieved smile.

"Quite, Mr. Moony."

*****

The note was only two words but it was more than enough.

//It's Hatching!//

Ron gulped noticeably, suddenly put off his breakfast. Harry folded the note up quickly and put it in his pocket. The smaller boy was very glad that Hermione had decided to finish breakfast early and was in the library. Their plan was not going well so far. The egg was hatching. Hedwig had not returned from Romania, and even now Draco Malfoy was staring at the Gryffindor table with an expression of smug superiority. 

At least Harry thought the look was because of the dragon. It was hard to tell; Draco often wore a look of smug superiority. It seemed to come naturally.

"What do we do?" Ron whispered.

Harry worried his lip nervously. "I suppose we go and watch it hatch."

The red head goggled at him in disbelief. "Harry, this is a _dragon_ we are talking about. It's one thing to keep an egg secret till we can smuggle it out, but a dragon? Charlie showed me some of the burns and bite marks he had gotten from the wild ones at Christmas. Those things are _dangerous_."

"We have no choice," Harry said "Hagrid's my friend, but if you want to back out, I-"

"Don't even say it," Ron said angrily, pointing his fork at Harry. "Just don't. We're in this together, even Hermione. We're not going to abandon you to do this all by yourself. Hagrid's your friend so that makes him mine too. We'll just sneak down during morning break."

Feeling shyly pleased but also dreadfully guilty for getting Ron and Hermione into this mess, Harry nodded his thanks at his best friend. "Let's go tell Hermione."

*****

Norbert, Hagrid's pride and joy, was spindly, vicious, black, violent, flammable, and now apparently, poisonous. 

"Hold still, I've almost got it," Harry murmured.

Ron moaned as Harry managed to leech off the rest of the infection by focusing all of his magic on his friend's bitten hand. Holding it gently under the tap, Harry finished washing out the injury and wrapping it, weaving healing into the strips of bed sheet they'd torn up to make the bandage.

"It should be fine by morning," Harry told him in a whisper not wanting his voice to echo loudly in the darkened boy's bathroom. He watched the redness and swelling that had spread up his friend's arm vanish.

"Yeah. Thanks, Harry. Can you imagine showing up in the infirmary with this?" Ron said raising his tender hand gingerly. "Oh, Madam Pomfrey it was a dog that bit me," he said dramatically. "Like she'll believe that!"

"Hedwig's back and Saturday is only four days away," Harry reminded him. "We just have to convince Hagrid it's for the best, and get Norbert to the highest tower at midnight."

"Good luck," Ron snorted in amusement. In the days the three of them had taken to helping Hagrid feed and tend to the baby dragon both Ron and Hermione had grown fond of the Gamekeeper, even with his odd predilections for dangerous fearsome pets. "I heard him singing to it, singing that poisonous thing to sleep like it was a baby," Ron confided to Harry "He even bought it a _teddy bear_. He thinks it's a cute and cuddly kitty cat not a vicious, fire breathing, evil, bottomless stomach."

Harry laughed softly and shook his head. "We'll just tell him Norbert will be happier with other dragons to be friends with. About how much he'll learn at the colony, how he might have relatives there, how wonderful it will be for Norbert."

"And what about Malfoy?" Ron said as he paced back and forth anxiously. "He's been keeping an extra close watch, and I could have sworn I saw him peeking through the curtains spying on us."

"He hasn't said anything yet. And he has no proof as of now, and in four days he won't be able to _find_ anything anyway. Half of pulling off a good plan right under someone's nose is keeping your head."

"How can you be so calm?" Ron groused under his breath following Harry out of the bathroom. "Learn that from your godfather, did you?" Ron asked in a whisper as they made their way back into the dorm and to their respective beds. 

"Sirius is brilliant at plans," Harry said with a smile. The happy look faded as he came face to face with his bed. He hadn't been spending much time there with helping Hagrid with midnight feedings of Norbert, but what time he did spend was not restful.

Harry rubbed his forehead absently, a ghost pain flashing briefly from his scar. For a moment he wanted nothing more than to put back on his father's invisibility cloak and wander Hogwarts till morning.

"Hey," Ron said quietly, his hand shaking Harry out of his thoughts. "You've got to sleep, Harry. I'll wake you up if you, er, dream again," the redhead said tactfully. He cut of Harry's protests by pushing him towards the bed. "Sleep," he ordered.

"Night Ron," Harry whispered.

"Night Harry."

*****

The three Gryffindors stood watching Hagrid's tearful goodbye to Norbert who was savagely biting the man's arms as the gamekeeper hugged his baby to his chest.

"Yeh take care now," Hagrid said with a large sniffle as he placed the Norwegian Ridgeback in his crate. "Play nice with all the other dragons and make sure yeh eat well," he said, wiping his nose on a large red handkerchief as he placed the stuffed toy in with his precious hatchling.

Norbert hissed and started mauling the teddy bear as Hagrid closed the lid of the massive crate.

Stunned by the display Hermione and Ron stood there while Harry took charge, placing his hands on the crate ("Wood!" Hermione had muttered upon seeing it. "He transports a flame breathing animal in a wooden container!") making it feather light, floating, and inflammable.

"Come on, it's nearly midnight," Hermione said as Harry threw the cloak over all three of them and they hurried, hands linked, back towards the castle, the crate floating along behind them.

They were in luck, _or more likely_, Harry thought, _the castle was working for them_. They managed to avoid Peeves and Mrs. Norris as they climbed staircase after staircase, puffing for air as they ran.

"Hurry!" Ron said between gasps as they reached the base of the final staircase up the turret. 

A sudden noise in the dark nearly sent them falling back down the way they'd come. Shrinking back into the dark, hiding the crate in the shadows, the three Gryffindors watched as the most pleasing sight since this whole adventure began came into view.

Dressed in a tartan bathrobe, dragging one Draco Malfoy by the ear, was Professor McGonagall.

Hermione slapped her hand across Ron's mouth before the boy could descend into fits of laughter.

"But Harry Potter's coming! He's got a dragon and-"

"Detention! And twenty points for making up such stories, Mr. Malfoy," the Head of Gryffindor scolded furiously, dragging the boy away. "Straight to Professor Snape with you!"

The three waited and watched as the two disappeared from sight. Quickly now they dashed up the final spiral staircase and out into the night air and threw off the invisibility cloak.

Hermione did a little dance of glee. "Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

At the sight of Hermione skipping about both Harry and Ron let go and laughed till tears ran down their faces.

"Did-did you see? She had him by the _ear_!" Ron managed to gasp out.

"But Harry Potter's coming! He's got a dragon!" Hermione mimicked Draco's tone of voice perfectly prompting further fits of laughter.

"Harry Potter's got a dragon?" an amused voice asked. All three of them turned around and saw a red head young man and another dark faced wizard on brooms smiling down at their antics.

"Charlie!" Ron called out in greeting as both of the men landed. He introduced them to his friends, and Harry found himself peered at with slightly awed expressions as he shook hands with Charlie and one of Charlie's fellow dragon handlers, Kurt Wimble.

They managed to hook up a harness between the brooms and get a squirming, unhappy Norbert situated in between them.

"Now don't go breeding any more creatures, all right?" Charlie said messing up his younger brother's hair. "I don't want to have to receive a letter from you three about finding a pet chimera. Merlin only knows what mum would say," he said drolly.

"You won't tell her, will you?" Ron said anxiously.

Charlie laughed. "Never. But you should be proud. Not even Fred and George ever tried anything this ambitious. Now get back to bed and take care you don't get caught."

"Bye Charlie! Bye Kurt!" they called as the two men kicked off.

The three of them watched as Norbert disappeared from sight.

Hermione let out a colossal sigh of relief. "Thank heaven that's over with."

"You know, I think I'm going to miss him," Ron said.

Harry and Hermione exchanged an incredulous look and Hermione reached out and smacked the Weasley boy upside the head.

"Are you mad? Good riddance to bad rubbish!" Hermione said firmly.

"And good riddance to bad students," a raspy voice cackled.

Whirling around the three came face to face with Mr. Filch.

"Little firsties out of bed after hours?" he murmured to Mrs. Norris in his arms. "Oooh we are in trouble, aren't we?"

*****

//Dear Padfoot and Moony,//

//I lost 50 house points from Gryffindor. So did Ron and Hermione. Professor McGonagall is furious. We were caught out of bed after hours by Mr. Filch. Our Housemates aren't very happy at the moment but it could have been worse. You could be receiving a call from the Disposal of Magical Creatures department about me being in arrested for smuggling.//

//We've also got detention tomorrow night. I'm not sure what we'll be doing but Malfoy got detention too for being out of bed trying to spy on us. Professor McGonagall dragged him away by his ear. It was very funny.//

//It looks like Gryffindor won't be wining the house cup because we're in last place. I'm sorry if I disappointed you, but it was important. But there is still Quidditch Oliver says, and we could be back in the running if we beat Slytherin in the final.//

//Love,

Harry//

*****

"Aren't you worried at all about what our detention will be? She's might make us owl our parents," Hermione wailed. "Plus all of those House points. We'll never catch up."

"Are you kidding? You did see Harry's godfather on the Platform at Christmas, didn't you?" Ron exclaimed as they trudged tiredly to class the next morning. "He'll probably be thrilled Harry smuggled a baby dragon out of Hogwarts. Harry will be okay, but the rest of us are doomed though," Ron said, face falling. "Mum'll kill me," he said mournfully. "At least it's only detention. We're still students."

Their detention turned out be better than expulsion, but not by much.

"Detention in the Forbidden Forest? I thought it was Forbidden!" Ron groused into his lunch.

Harry shrank in his seat at the red head's words. The three of them were sitting ostracized by most of their House at the Gryffindor table. "I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "I shouldn't have gotten you involved. It was my fault."

"Don't be silly Harry," Ron said. "Hagrid's your friend, an my friend now and Hermione's too. We stick together."

Hermione nodded. "That's right. Don't even think about apologizing. We made the choice ourselves. I could have chosen to go to Professor McGonagall from the beginning and reported the occurrence, but we work better together. Remember the troll?" she asked trying to coax a smile out of the smaller boy.

Harry nodded, raising his head to meet her eyes.

"There, see?" Ron asked, in slightly better spirits. "We've taken down a troll and smuggled a dragon though no one knows. Detention isn't so bad, it's just that why do we have to have it with Malfoy? Are they trying to kill us?" 

"It's not that dangerous," Harry protested softly.

"May I remind you of Malfoy?" Ron said archly.

Harry though about this for a moment before conceding the point. "Great annoyance can lead to death. It's happened before," he said seriously.

"That's not very comforting Harry," Ron grumbled.

"No it hasn't. There hasn't been a single death with annoyance as the cause," Hermione said scathingly. 

"It's not that bad," Harry tried again fighting down a yawn, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "There are paths and safe trees and groves in the forest. If you're careful and avoid the nastier surprises and pay attention to where you are it's fine. The forest is old, the trees like their privacy as do the monsters living there."

"Monsters?" Hermione whispered before shaking herself. She stood, abandoning her lunch. At the boy's questioning looks she explained. "There's probably a book in the library about the forest."

"You're going to get it _now_? What about lunch? You'll be late for Potions too," Ron pointed out.

"We have the detention tonight. A prepared person is less likely to be harmed than an unprepared person. I intend to be prepared."

Spinning around on her heel she marched out of the Great Hall.

"Like anyone's ever written a book about that awful place."

Harry shook his head at his friend's morose tone. "Hagrid is going to be with us. It's-it's going to be all right."

Ron took a deep breath and nodded. "Right." He raised his glass and tipped it at Harry. "Here's hoping Draco gets eaten by something nasty."

*****

They met in the dark at the edge of the Forest. Hagrid was still moping over the loss of his precious Norbert and snapped at Malfoy for whining, much to Ron's delight.

For Harry's part his eyes were drawn to the blackness of the Forest. The uneasiness he'd felt all term was pressing down on him with a vengeance, recent nightmares of dreaded _green_ and that woman's voice only fueling his feelings.

Something was coming.

_No, something was already here._

Hagrid strode into the Forbidden Forest and they followed, clustered behind him like ducklings. They all jumped out of their skins when the first and then the second centaur greeted them with their odd pronouncement.

"Mars is bright tonight."

Frustrated by non answers, as well as Draco jumping out from behind trees frightening Hermione, Hagrid paired them up to go searching for the killer of unicorns. He offered Harry an apology for sticking him with Draco, and added his huge boarhound Fang to their little group.

They wandered deeper into the forest, Malfoy holding the lantern high as they followed a trail of unicorn blood.

"This is all your fault, Potter," Malfoy spat. "Just wait till my father hears about this."

"You mean you haven't already told him that you got dragged before your Head of House by your ear and lost twenty points from Slytherin?" Harry asked with false solicitness as he peered around the massive ancient tress for unicorns or unicorn killers. 

"Still much better than you! 150 points in one night," Draco smirked with glee. "Gryffindor is in last place and none of your housemates are talking to you."

"You could have got us expelled and thrown in jail for illegal dragon breeding and yourself hailed as a hero. I'd say that house points are a pretty poor substitute as far as rivalry goes," Harry replied sharply.

Growling under his breath, Draco kicked at a tree root that now tangled into the barely traversable path. Looking up they realized they had found the unicorn at last.

Fallen in a crumbled heap, luminescent amid the tangled roots of an ancient oak tree lay the beautiful creature.

There was a noise, a sort of slithering rustle to the side and Harry, Draco, and Fang watched in petrified horror as a cloaked figure crept along the forest floor towards the fallen beast and lowered its head to drink of its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAAARGH!" 

Malfoy had found his voice and dropping the lantern, fled with Fang at his heels. Harry could only mutely watch as the Slytherin and dog vanished between the trees. He whirled back around to see if the . . thing . . . had see them.

The cloaked figure raised its head and wiped shiny glowing blood off its mouth onto its cloak.

Pain exploded on Harry's forehead. His scar burned and it felt as if someone had taken a pickaxe at his skull, driving the blade deep between his eyes. Pressing his hand to the mark, he stumbled back over tree roots, fighting for breath as his lungs constricted under the onslaught of pain.

Though blurry eyes, Harry watched as the shadowy figure approached. He saw claw like hands extend for him and raised his left arm to ward the creature off.

_He knew this, this was familiar . . ._

Light poured from Harry, tracing paths across his hand and wrist, as if he was lit by an inner fire and it shone through his skin and his clothes. The creature recoiled for an instant but then pressed closer. Gritting his teeth against the intense pain, barely standing, Harry drew his hand away from his forehead, reached for his magic, and _pushed--_

The cloaked figure fled with an inhuman shriek that sounded like air hissing from a puncture.

Gasping, Harry collapsed to his knees, shaking hands pressed into the dirt, very nearly sick. There was the thunder of hooves behind him but Harry couldn't find the energy to look up, let alone face whatever was coming.

A hand on his shoulder got his attention and Harry met the blue eyed gaze of a palomino centaur.

"Are you all right?" he said pulling Harry to his unsteady feet.

"Voldemort," Harry said blankly, the word escaping as if it had been pulled from within him by invisible hands. He _remembered._ "That was . . . Voldemort." 

The centaur looked taken aback. "Yes," he said in amazement. He looked over the boy carefully and reached out to wipe blood off the boy's forehead revealing the lighting shaped scar. "You are Harry Potter," he breathed.

"Yes." Harry blinked dizzily, trying to focus. "Who are you?"

"I am Firenze. You are fortunate that I saw the . . . light through the trees." The centaur stared up at the heavens barely visible through the dense foliage. "Mars is bright tonight."

"War is coming," Harry agreed almost absently, finding it hard to focus on what the centaur was saying. He tried to wipe blood off his face before it dripped into his eyes. "It will be worse this time, much worse."

Firenze stared at the boy in front of him, swishing his tail. "You read the stars?" he asked incredulously.

Harry tipped his head back, nearly loosing his balance and falling if not for the centaur. He stared up at the distant pinpricks. "I dream, sometimes with my eyes open," he murmured. "I see things and then they happen."

"What have you seen?" the centaur asked anxiously, kneeling down so that he could see Harry clearly.

"Ash, green light, fire reflected back again and again . . ." he said muzzily. "I see m-my parents, a room, dusty, dirty . . . he's begging, he's begging him t-to . . . headstones, and—and doors . . ." His green eyes snapped back into focus, sharp, clear, and suddenly he _knew_.

"_There is a traitor at the school."_

Firenze reached out and gripped Harry's shoulders. "Mars foretells a blood soaked return, soon, perhaps very soon. If there is a traitor, perhaps no one but you can prevent His rising."

"I know," he said thinly, dropping his head, exhausted. "I must be there for Voldemort to fail." Harry said, voice faint, eyes closing as he paled. The truth struck him like a blow. "And . . . I must be there for him to succeed."

*****

tbc

Dragons and Detentions. I hope you enjoyed the dynamic between Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Hermione may have come off a bit overanxious, but if you read first book she is very tense and rule bound. She is much more relaxed second year. As for Ron, despite the 4th book ff backlash, I think he is one of the most loyal and truest friends to Harry. I love their friendship which like any great one has its ups and downs. I had to really fight to keep Harry in character for this chapter, I did a lot of reworking to keep it so. I hope you liked how Hagrid became friends with Ron and Hermione, I hope it was believable. As for the exclusion of Neville, given that so much of previous chapters had Harry working on his own, I felt the need to establish the trio here in this chapter and the relationship they have. Sirius and Remus had a small part in here, just because I thought it was realistic that Harry would write them often and sending Hedwig away for a long period of time would cause them to worry. As for the unicorn killer in the forest . . . did it come off the least bit suspenseful? Well as suspenseful as it can be given that you've all probably read the books and seen the film. What about Harry's Seeing? Let me know!

Anyway . . . a lot in this chapter, a lot of key character and plot development for the next couple of chapters. Next chapter . . . the truth will out.

Recommendations: 

"Extrapolation" by Aedalena is a wonderful Harry piece. Set during Tom Riddle's school years, it is long and just getting started. Serious drama and action here. Very very good. 

"Coming in from the Cold" by ahappyjtm. If you all are good at searching out Sirius and Harry fics you have no doubt found this one, but just in case . . . a very resourceful Harry, Padfoot on the go, a prophecy about the wizards of wizards, and Fred and George are LOST! Rich with detail and very very promising. Each chapter is a wonderful surprise and the author updates rather regularly. 

"A Gryffindor Tried and True" by Meercat. A good adventure story where everyone is in character and there is a real sense of anxiousness created by this inventive writer. Also more of the Founder's secrets within Hogwarts.

Reviews: Once again thanks to all of you!

Von- I'm glad you liked Christmas. I didn't want to focus too much about what happened over Christmas, though I did write a few more scenes. I think they'll fit better in second year actually. Snape's a challenge but I'm happy how he turned out. As for Harry's broom being destroyed . . . you'll have to wait for second year which I hope to start typing this weekend. (so yes I do plan to keep going, thanks to reviewer's kind encouragement) I glad that Harry's fondest desire was believable. I wanted that scene to be really as profound and shaking as it was to read in the first book. 

Anaxandra- I won't shoot. I can understand people's reluctance to read. I must seem like some kind of interloper on neutral's world, so don't punish yourself! grin I'm glad I in some small way live up to the terrific example she set in her stories. I do like to bring in what motivates Harry, focus in some vague way on the past, though not harp on it. I do hope I've succeeded. The best storytellers can give such hints subtly. I am learning how to do so with every story, every chapter I write. I'm glad you are enjoying this! 

homa_24- Sister mine . . . you were exaggerating on the length! evil grin I'm glad I grilled you at the pool after all! As for proper keep left signs, was it really that silly? Is that a good thing?

Liara- Being manhandles as a kid is one of the horrible losses of growing up. SIGH Harry being as small for his age as he is gets to enjoy it longer than most, and doesn't care or feel embarrassed. This is Padfoot after all. As for the Ron-Hermione-Harry discussion about what it means to be a Gryffindor and a friend . . . next chapter you and others who have been missing the trio will get what you have asked for! ;) It will have repercussions into the next year and beyond. I hope you liked their character interactions in this chapter. I'm glad you liked the nightmare images—the green stealing Harry's parents is actually in the book, the other two images are influenced by Clawtracks and Western Stars. Rereading the books in anticipation of book 5 as well as for this story, you pick up so many things! No matter how much I love the films, the books rock.

TeeDee- The best chapter yet? Hmm, how shall I top that!? The train scene I wrote when I first decided to write this fic. It got changed a bit as I worked on it, but the original writing is mostly there. Honestly if I didn't walk around with a pen and a notebook I would never write anything! grin Thanks for the grammar help, the sss and ''' always drive me crazy.

dragongirlG- Someone who likes Harry figuring out things for himself! YES! Thank you. You appear to be in a minority, but I don't care! Oh happy day! grin Thank you for reviewing; I was loosing all hope that I was managing to get my thoughts across through words. And a Snape fan, a fan of Snape as he is in his natural habitat- snarky, rude, caustic, and Slytherin. I shall endeavor to keep writing. I'm planning year two and beyond, each year divorcing further and further from events of the book of course.

NightSpear- Another fan of the mirror scene, I'm so glad. As for the trio vs. independent Harry, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. A lot more interaction between the three, with Harry introducing them due to circumstances to his very good friend Hagrid. The Oliver Quidditch scene was added at the spur of the moment, inspired by the books and quite a few other ff author's description of Harry in flight. I wasn't sure when neutral had him be a hawk/bird of prey as his Animagus but it does fit with his character, flying free, no longer earthbound. Thanks for the grammar help, I shall endeavor to correct! Keep reading.

Riddikulus- ahhh! A motorbike fan. I think Sirius is the coolest bad boy in the HP universe. I'm glad you enjoyed Harry's holiday, such a sharp contrast to his Hogwart's holidays really. The mirror scene "powerful to read" ? Wow! Thank you, I am very flattered. I am so glad you liked it, I worried so much about it coming off as dramatic and emotionally impacting. Thank you! Thank you! 

Please review and let me know what you liked! ;)


	10. CHAPTER X: The Great Gryffindor Caper

NOTES: So so sorry for the delay. As you all know ff.net has been acting weird and then Real Life decided to intervene. I hope this chapter is worth the wait.

Recommendations: I'm in a Voldemort and Harry mood, how about you? Morgane's fic found on my fav site: "Cursum Perficio" and its sequel "A Place to Return To" newly posted. Short yet they pack one hell of a punch. Review and she writes MORE! Always good. And "In Destroying Him I Met My Fall" by Ephirel. A very interesting take on Harry's origins, Voldemort sort of present by default as you will discover upon reading. This one too can be found on my fav page. 

Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews. Over 100, I'm speechless. blush I've never had such feedback. (Especially you Skywalker26, short but very heartfelt! Thank you!)

** ** for Moony's writing

// // for Padfoot's writing

Just in case the bold font doesn't come through.

*****

CHAPTER X: The Great Gryffindor Caper

*****

"What happened? What was that thing you and Malfoy saw?" Ron asked as they stumbled chilled and exhausted into the empty common room.

"Voldemort," Harry blurted out before he could stop himself, too numb from Seeing to check his words. He stumbled into a chair by the fire. "He's drinking from the unicorns until he can get to the Philosopher's Stone hidden here at Hogwarts."

Dead shocked silence greeted his sudden admission. Harry raised his head with effort to stare at the stunned faces of his friends.

"W-what? What are you . . ." Hermione said aghast. "How do you kno--" She broke of and stared at Harry, light dawning. She wasn't the smartest witch of their year for nothing. "You've been keeping things from us," she breathed in revelation. "You've been keeping things about what is being hid in the school and why and who's after it," she said furiously, pointing an accusing finger at the smaller boy.

"You've WHAT?" Ron yelled.

Harry flinched. That was all the admission that his friends needed.

"How could you—after everything with the troll . . . you said—" Ron sputtered, incensed. "_Damnit_, Harry!" Ron hissed, collapsing with a thump on a couch. "You _promised_! You promised you'd tell us, let us help!"

Harry rubbed at the dried blood on his forehead, unable to meet Ron's accusing gaze. _This is all my fault! Ron, Hermione, my friends . . . _"It's-it's dangerous, I could have gotten you hurt," he explained, a touch of desperation in his voice. _Blood, blood on my hands, on the field, on my robes . . ._

"So instead you've been doing this all by yourself, with no one to watch your back?!" Ron yelled completely forgetting the sleeping Gryffindors in the rooms above them. Harry shrunk in his seat. "All those books on alchemy, they had to do with it, didn't they? There was no extra project for history! And all those nights sneaking out?" Harry didn't answer, he didn't need to. The redhead let his head drop back with an explosive sigh. "I can't believe you didn't _tell_ us."

"Ron . . ." Harry whispered, but could find no words, could offer no apologies that wouldn't sound hollow in the face of his friend's righteous indignation.

With a disapproving frown, Hermione, ever practical, got right to what she wanted to know. "Well? What is this Philosopher's Stone? Is it--is it really You-Know-Who who is after it? Where is it? You'd better tell us, we're not going to take no for an answer," she said firmly, crossing her arms.

"Nicolas Flamel created a stone back in the 16th century called the Philosopher's Stone. It is the only one currently in existence. It can turn any metal into gold and it also produces something called the Elixir of Life which makes a person immortal."

Ron let out a low whistle. "That's the something being protected? That _is_ worth stealing."

"How did you figure all this out?" Hermione asked, stunned. "Did you know during Halloween and kept it from us?"

Harry shook his head; it ached fiercely. "No," he said quickly. "I told you the truth at Halloween. I didn't know what was the reason behind using the troll as a distraction."

"What about where? Did you know where?" Ron demanded.

Harry twisted his hands in his lap. "I didn't know for sure," he said smally.

"But you had a pretty good idea, right?"

"The third floor corridor," Harry admitted softly.

Hermione slapped her hand against her forehead. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?"

"It wasn't always at Hogwarts," Harry explained dazedly, eyes bright with exhaustion. "It was kept in a vault at Gringotts. Hagrid went to pick it up the day I went shopping in Diagon Alley with Sirius and Remus. The Vault was broken into soon after. The stone is being guarded by one of Hagrid's pets."

"What is it this time? A hydra? Perhaps a friendly Dementor?" Ron asked incredulously.

"It's a giant three headed dog."

Both Hermione and Ron could do nothing but blink as they digested that statement.

"And you know this because you went into the third floor corridor where Professor Dumbledore said we could die horribly?" Hermione said, voice rising stridently.

"Something like that," Harry mumbled distantly. He felt cold, he should be shivering, but his whole body felt numb, expect for his scar.

"And tonight?"

"Tonight . . ." Harry stared into the fire, gripping the armrests of the chair. Was it just him or was the common room spinning? "Voldemort was out in the Forbidden Forest drinking unicorn blood to stay alive until he can get it, until he can get the Stone." _Or have someone get it for him._

"Don't say his name," Ron said in a panicky whisper staring at the portrait hole as if he expected the Dark Lord to burst in any minute. 

"Voldemort saw us, he came after me, was going to grab me, but I-I managed to force him away, I don't know h-how--" Harry continued inexorably, the words just pouring out in an uncontrolled jumble now. "I spoke with Firenze. He said--"

Hermione held up her hand to stop him. "Wait, wait. Who's Firenze?"

Ron sat up, gaping. "You managed to force You-Know-Who _away? How?_"

But Harry ignored them. "--Mars is bright, and he's right, it is. Mars an omen of impending war. Voldemort will try for the Stone soon. He has no choice, he can't live off of unicorns forever. And even if he doesn't get it, there are other ways to come back, he won't stop trying. And I think--" Harry hesitated and then rallied. "I think that one of the teachers is working for Voldemort to get the Stone for him. I thought for a while someone just wanted it for themselves, for the gold or-or for the Elixir, but there is a traitor. I'm sure of it. It might be . . ."

"Who?" Ron and Hermione asked together, eyes wide.

Harry shook his head, which proved once again to be a very bad idea. "I don't _know_," he said desperately, dropping his head into his hands. "Things are all . . . muddled. They don't make any sense, every night . . . green and-and a woman's voice . . . they just don't make any _sense._" Harry mumbled to himself.

"What? Harry--!" And his friends were beside him, reaching out to try and quell his trembling.

Harry stood, shrugging of Ron's hand on his shoulder, backing away from both of them, realizing he'd just given them _everything_, told them everything, and now they were in danger because of him. He would get them hurt, it would be his fault, _his fault!_ "No, no, I've _told_ you. You know now. I shouldn't have, but . . ." Harry scrubbed his eyes beneath his glasses fiercely with his sleeve. "And you've got to _promise me _that you won't go after this," Harry said fiercely. "It's _dangerous_. You could be killed. I won't let you-- You don't know what he's capable of. Voldemort will _kill_ you and--"

_"Will you stop saying that name!"_ Ron hissed.

"You could be killed too, Harry," Hermione said softly. "Remember? We don't want you to get hurt either. We can't just . . . forget about this, not now that we know."

"No. It doesn't matter," Harry said simply. Things were falling into place. He knew with absolute certainty that he had to alive for Voldemort to succeed or fail. It no longer mattered. He no longer mattered. "_Promise me_." he demanded, green eyes flashing.

"No," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest, blue eyes fierce, defiant. "I_ won't_."

"Harry," Hermione said, eyes darting between the two of them; a confrontation was the last thing they needed. "Professor Dumbledore is the one person You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. As long as he's here at Hogwarts, no one will make a try for the Stone. And besides if centaurs told you that rubbish about the planets being omens of the future it probably isn't true. All that fortune-telling isn't real. Seeing is a very imprecise type of magic. Nobody can really See the future, let alone discover it in the stars. Professor McGonagall says it's made up mostly."

The two boys did not look at her.

Sighing she rubbed her eyes tiredly. "It's late," Hermione whispered, hoping merely for temporary calm. There would be no resolution tonight. "We have class in a couple of hours."

Silently the three of them headed up the steps and into their respective dorms.

The sky had turned light with approaching dawn and they stumbled towards their beds to catch a few minutes of sleep before breakfast. Ron was silent, and drew the curtains closed around his bed.

Harry pulled back his covers, prepared to simply fall into bed with his clothes on, when he caught sight of his father's invisibility cloak folded neatly on his pillow. He'd left it up at the highest tower after Charlie and Kurt had flown off with Norbert and had been unable to escape watchful eyes to go and retrieve it.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

He picked up the liquid material and pressed it to his cheek, the coolness soothing. His fingers caught on a piece of parchment and he forced his eyes open to read the message.

//Just in Case.//

Hermione may be right that Voldemort would not make a try for the Stone with Dumbledore at Hogwarts, but the Headmaster seemed to fear the worst regardless.

Harry no longer fear the worst, he simply knew it was coming.

*****

// Dear Harry,

I am in no way disappointed that you lost some points. Some of the Marauder's best plans ended in point loss. You are continuing a fine tradition, Mischief Maker, and I am very proud that you are having fun. I was getting worried that you were only doing homework! I am curious to know what you were "smuggling." I am sure it could not have been so bad as to get you arrested—//

** Not that Padfoot should talk being an illegal Animagus-- **

// As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, Harry, if you need me to order something on Filch's forbidden list you have only to ask. You don't have to smuggle something in from some upper year student. They demand such exorbitant fees--//

** And he should know Harry since he used to--**

// I remember for a while in our fifth year everyone was crazy over Augers and someone snuck in a couple of eggs and started a bidding war for the creatures. Personally I think if you're going to have a forbidden pet it should be a dog. A nice big dog to terrorize Slytherins. Speaking of Slytherins--//

** Harry, don't worry about the House Cup. Points are important, but the competition is all in good fun. No need to brutalize Slytherins, though your description of Lucius Malfoy's son being dragged off by his ear for being a tattletale is a fantastic ima-- **

// It reminds me of another busybody Slytherin who stuck his oversized nose into our business and got what he--//

** And don't worry about your House mates being upset. 50 points between the three of you for being out of bounds at night isn't too bad. One time Padfoot lost over--**

// Harry, was McGonagall in her bathrobe? Does she still wear a tartan patterned one?//

** Exams are soon, I know that you'll do fine, but don't spend all your time on the Quidditch pitch, get some studying in. As for me, the book is nearly done, at least the rough draft is. You can read it whe-- **

// Which means that Mr. Moony will at last stir from his study for more than a new pot of tea, he might actually prove to be somewhat entertaining instead of burying his head in-//

** Take care Harry.**

// Schools almost done and we'll have the whole summer together, just us. //

//Love,

Padfoot// **and Moony**

*****

"Harry, Harry wake up!" 

Harry opened his eyes and realized Ron was shaking him awake again. "S-sorry," he managed to say. "I'm all right now."

Ron didn't believe him. From across the dorm room, Neville muttered and snored in his sleep. "Want to talk about it?" the red head whispered, not wanting to wake the others.

Harry shook his head. Every night for the last week and a half had been the same. Even with the stilted and strained atmosphere between Ron and Harry, with Hermione's frantic last minute studying and final exams just begun, Ron still managed to wake now by habit at least once in the dead of night to check on the smaller boy. Now both of them had dark circles under their eyes. Feeling guilty, Harry had put up silencing charms one night, but Ron had checked on him and had been quietly furious.

"Same as before," Harry explained his reluctance to talk. There was nothing new to tell, just the horror of watching his family be destroyed before his eyes by their demons and the ever present crushing weight of impending darkness barreling down at him. Harry felt a cool hand hover above his forehead, not quite touching, and stiffened reflexively. 

"It-its not bleeding," Ron said awkwardly. "Are you sure you don't need to go see Madam Pomfrey? Is it hurting?"

_It hasn't stopped hurting since our detention in the Forbidden Forest._ But Harry wasn't going to say that. The constant dull ache seemed so petty to complain about when the safety of the whole Wizarding World was so precariously balanced. _It's just a stupid scar_, he told himself angrily. Harry forced a smile. "I'm fine. Thanks."

Ron shrugged. "Are you going back to sleep?"

"No," Harry said quietly. "It's past midnight. There's no point," he finished barely above a whisper.

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it. "Okay."

Harry watched as Ron burrowed back under his covers. _The Stone is perfectly safe_, he reminded himself as he silently got out of bed to sit by the window. _Professor Dumbledore is here, you have no proof that anyone is a traitor. You can't point fingers accusing people_. He stared across the grounds, now green with spring. He saw in the distance the brooding shape of the Forbidden Forest where Voldemort was, Hagrid's Hut standing sentry at the edge much like the three headed monster stood onto of the trap door. 

The dog guarding the trapdoor was fierce, Professor Snape could attest to that. There was little chance anyone could get past him to get at the Stone. Harry was unique in his ability to be near the creature. No one but Hagrid knew how to handle his pets and Hagrid would never tell anyo--

The dragon's egg won off a stranger in the pub. 

How many people just _happened_ to carry illegal dragon's eggs in their pockets?

Harry pressed his face to the glass and stared. Hagrid was awake; the sky was lightening. He could just push open the window and jump out, transforming to his Animagus shape as he fell and be there in an instant. He could ask Hagrid who this man was, what he had said, whether Hagrid had told him anything about the dog. Harry opened to window with a click and was about to leap when . . . 

Harry looked back over his shoulder at the red hair sticking out underneath a pile of bedclothes. Ron and Hermione would be furious if he went off investigating without him.

But this couldn't wait!

Scrambling down from the window Harry ran over to Ron's bed and gently shook him awake.

He hoped his friend would forgive him the early wake up call.

*****

"Harry slow down! Where are we going?" Ron asked still half asleep. He was trying to shrug on his school robe while Harry dragged him down the stairs, through the common room and out into the corridor. He'd wanted in on Harry's adventure but getting up at dawn, getting dressed and running outside . . . that was a little extreme and after the thing with Norbert that was saying something

"We've got to go see Hagrid, now," Harry said breathlessly as he headed for the outer doors. 

"Why? Is this about the Stone?" Ron asked, eyes wide. "Have you figured out who the traitor is? What about Hermione?"

Harry pushed open the heavy doors and slipped through. "This can't wait, besides do you want to get caught going into the girl's dormitory?"

Ron shuddered imagining the pink frilly horror that would no doubt greet him upon entering the den of females. Ginny's room at home was bad enough. He had fixed ideas about the studious and confident Hermione; he didn't need them shattered upon realizing she was indeed a _girl._ "Why Hagrid? Shouldn't we go to Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore?"

Harry shook his head as he scrambled along the dewy grass. "I need to ask Hagrid something first. I should have realized it earlier," he cursed himself.

Sprinting their way across the field they slid to a stop beside the giant man who was chopping wood to add to his fire pile beside his hut.

"Hullo Harry, Ron!" he greeted them. "Bit early to be out isn't it?"

"Hagrid," Harry said, a bit out breath, cheeks red. "The stranger you played cards with, the one you won Norbert from, what did he look like?"

The gamekeeper seemed surprised by the questions. "Yeh know," he said after a moment. "I don't rightly know, 'xactly. Wouldn't take his cloak off."

"You never saw him?" Harry asked a bit desperately. "You never saw his face or-or got his name?" 

"'E was just some stranger, passin' through Hogsmeade Harry," Hagrid explained, his face puzzled. He wasn't the only one; Ron looked equally bewildered.

"And he just happened to have a dragons egg in his pocket," Harry continued on anxiously.

"That he did, Harry. He asked me lots of questions about what kinds of animals I take care of and I told him, I told him a dragon's no trouble fer me. I've raised all sorts of creatures. I don't remember too well," Hagrid confessed sheepishly. "He kept buyin' drinks yeh see. But I told him, a dragon's no trouble fer me. After raisin' Fluffy, a dragon's dead easy."

"A-and Fluffy would be?" Ron asked, with growing worry on his face as he put together why Harry had dragged him out here so early.

"My dog," the giant man said proudly. "Raised him from a pup I did."

"Does he—does he have three heads?" Harry asked grabbing hold of Hagrid's sleeve. "Does he?"

"How did yeh--?" Hagrid sat down on a tree stump and stared at the green eyed boy with growing concern. "Harry how do yeh know about Fluffy? Yeh haven't been wanderin' where yeh shouldn't, have yeh?"

"You didn't tell this-this stranger a lot about Fluffy, about caring for him did you?" Harry pressed, ignoring the gamekeeper's questions.

"I told him Fluffy's no problem, none at all. Jus' play him a bit o' music and he's fast asleep—" Hagrid stopped looking horrified. "I shouldn't have told yeh that! I shouldn't have told _anyone_ that!" He stood suddenly and Harry stepped back. "Never you mind about Fluffy. Forget I said it. The less people know the better!"

"Harry . . ." Ron whispered.

Harry shook his head. "We're sorry, we're sorry we bothered you Hagrid. We've got to get to breakfast. See you later."

"Harry, wait a minute," Hagrid called after them. "Harry!"

But Ron and Harry were already tearing across the grass up to the castle.

*****

Hermione sat all alone at the Gryffindor table. _Where were those boys?_

They hadn't come down from the dorms; they hadn't been there when their dormmates had awoken. Who knows what could have happened to them? Perhaps they'd gone exploring under Harry's invisibility cloak. Perhaps they'd decided to investigate without her. She scowled. Hermione promised herself that she would torture them if they left her out! 

_But then the also could have been snatched from their beds by Voldemort or the Traitor_, a tiny voice whispered inside her.

Instantly Hermione felt very guilty for wishing torture on Ron and Harry. They could be being tortured at this minute, dragged off into the Forbidden Forest, lost, alone, dying, dead!

She was very much relieved when two very familiar figures came running up to the entrance of the Great Hall. Abandoning her breakfast she jumped up, coming to join them.

"Where have you been?" she hissed. "You were just _gone_. I thought . . ." Hermione trailed off noting their pale worried faces. "What is it?" she whispered as she pulled them out of direct traffic of students. 

"Remember the stranger Hagrid won the dragon egg off of?" Ron said between labored breathing. "He told him how to get past Fluffy."

"Who's Fluffy?" Hermione asked bewildered.

"Hagrid's dog," both boy's said together.

Harry continued "We think the stranger was Voldemort or maybe someone who works for Voldemort and now he knows how to get the Stone."

"Say You-Know-Who for Merlin's sake!" Ron said sharply.

"So You-Know-Who knows how to get to the Stone," Hermione echoed a touch frightened.

"Or have someone on the inside get it for him," Ron explained. "Remember only someone inside Hogwarts could have let the troll in and you said this place is covered in wards. He's stuck in the Forest and he's afraid of Professor Dumbledore."

"But who?" Hermione said.

Ron crossed his arms. "I think we can all guess after Harry's first Quidditch match that it's Professor Sn--"

"And _what_ . . . is so _important_," a dark voice hissed from behind them "that makes student's think they can loiter at the entrance to the Great Hall, disrupting traffic as if they owned the place?" 

Harry and the others turned to face Professor Snape who was glaring down at them from his imposing height. 

"Sorry sir," Hermione managed bravely.

"You would do well to remember that your place is at your table for meals and in classrooms during the day and in your common rooms at night. Obviously . . . such simple directions escape you."

"We'll just go have breakfast then, sir," Ron said as he began to edge around the Potion Master.

"A-actually, sir, we were wondering if we could speak to Professor Dumbledore," Harry said clenching his fists by his side. His two friends stared at him, goggled eyed. Harry, willingly continuing a conversation with the Professor he could barely acknowledge without shrinking into the floor in embarrassment? Harry _asking_ for something from the Potion Master who's sole purpose in life was tormenting and humiliating him?

The world _was_ ending.

Obviously Ron and Hermione were not the only two flabbergasted by the request. Snape looked completely nonplused for a moment, his face free of its usual smirk which was very very strange. However, the Professor recovered from his surprise quickly and smiled thinly at the black haired boy. "And you think the Headmaster has nothing better to do that cater to your timetable, your pathetic wants, Mr. Potter?" 

Behind Snape, Ron was frantically giving his friend the universal escape-while-you-can gesture.

Harry raised his chin. "It's important, sir."

Snape snorted. "_Clearly_, you still haven't grasped the fact that the world does not revolve around you. The Headmaster is away. He received an urgent owl earlier at breakfast and had to leave immediately for the Ministry, which you would have known Mr. Potter if you'd gotten up with your other classmates and made it to breakfast on time."

Harry stared past the Professor to see the empty seat at the center of the high table. "Professor Dumbledore's _gone? Now!?_" Harry said, an edge of panic raising his voice to a near shout. The Great Hall quieted, and students turned to search out the disturbance and were shocked.

Harry Potter was shouting at Professor Snape.

Ron and Hermione, eyes wide, took a prudent step back from the explosion about to happen.

"Are you deaf boy?" The Professor took a step nearer, glaring. Harry fought not to back away. "I fail to see any pressing need for _you_ to see the Headmaster. I'm sure in _your_ world we all need permission to act or breath, but in reality Potter very little requires your say so, let alone the Headmaster's calendar. Now sit down or leave before I take points. And any more night wanderings and I will see to it personally that you are expelled."

Stumbling to his seat, Harry sat facing the pale faces of Ron and Hermione.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione whispered. "With Professor Dumbledore gone . . ."

"Whoever on the staff will wait until nightfall at least," Harry said slowly.

"Harry," Hermione said warningly. "You're not thinking of going after the Stone first are you?"

Harry stared at his empty cereal bowl, toying with his spoon.

Hermione turned to look at the redhead for support, but Ron was strangely silent, a pensive expression on his face.

"Harry, no!" Hermione said, aghast. "You heard Professor Snape! You could be expelled not to mention killed. No," she said. "We'll go to Professor McGonagall and tell her that the Stone is in danger and she'll take care of it."

"But the traitor is part of the staff," Ron said urgently.

"And you think it's Professor _McGonagall_?" Hermione demanded incredulously.

"No," Ron scowled. "It's Snape. It all fits. He tried to hex Harry off his broom. Did you just hear what he said to Harry? He'll expel him for _night _wanderings. Snape let the troll in; he probably knows all about trolls, he's wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job for years. Everybody says so. Snape is the traitor."

"Keep your voice down," Harry said lowly, noting some of their yearmates staring.

"So we go to Professor McGonagall. And there will be no talk of going anywhere at night," Hermione said firmly.

*****

But Professor McGonagall didn't believe them and sent them packing back to the common room with threats of removing points from her own House and expulsion if they stirred one toe out of bounds tonight.

Hermione wrung her hands. "Well that's it then. There is nothing else we can do."

Harry strode past her and the rest of Gryffindors, purpose firm, and took the steps up to his dorm room.

It was time.

"Harry?" she called after him. 

Ron hurried up behind him, taking the stone steps two at a time. He found the black haired boy crouched by his trunk, pulling out his father's invisibility cloak. Hermione hovered in the doorway. 

"You can't," she whispered seeing the cloak.

"You don't understand," Harry said faintly, unable to put into words, the black dread, the certainty. He let the liquid material slip through his fingers. "You haven't seen what he will do if he comes back, the blood, the screaming." He looked up and stared at his friends. "How many more families will he destroy, how many other people will he kill? And there will be no way to stop him. None. The Stone will make him immortal. I have no choice, its why I'm here."

He stood. "I'm going down the trap door tonight."

"_We_ are going down the trapdoor tonight," Ron corrected firmly. At Harry's shocked look he rolled his eyes. "You don't think we're going to let you go _alone_ do you? Merlin Harry, do we have to go through this every single time?" He grabbed hold of the shorter boy's shoulder and shook him gently. Hermione ventured into the boy's dorm and took Harry's hand. "We're all together in this. We're Gryffindors. We're your _friends_."

Harry met their eyes, seeing only determination that matched the steel within him. He had to admit part of him, a secret, small part of him wanted them to come with him, wanted someone there so he didn't have do this alone. But just wishing they were with him filled him with sick remorse. They would be hurt, they would be killed--!

They were his friends, like Moony and Padfoot had been friends with his father. They could _choose_ themselves what they wanted to do. 

But it didn't have to end in blood.

He clenched his fists, reminding himself again.

(the sacred simplicity of you by my side)

It didn't have to end in blood.

"If we're caught you'll both be expelled, too" he reminded them anxiously. 

Hermione shook her head. "Professor Flitwick told me I go 112 percent on my Charms exam. They're not throwing me out after that!"

"What about for being the boys dormitory?" Ron teased.

Hermione tossed her head. "If you can't beat them, join them. I've decided to be a rebel."

*****

// Dear Padfoot and Moony,

I'll do my best and maybe you'll never have to be sent this letter at all. I told Hedwig to wait before delivering this. I hope she understood me. If I don't come back by morning, Hedwig will know to fly home. Just in case I wanted you to know that there was no other way. Voldemort is out in the Forbidden Forest living off the unicorns and one of the professors is probably a traitor. They've already made a try at the Philosopher's Stone at Halloween when someone let a troll into the school If Voldemort gets the Philosopher's Stone he'll be immortal. The centaurs saw the war in the stars, it fits with my dream. Professor Dumbledore was called away today so its tonight, the traitor will go for the stone tonight. 

I have to be there. It's important.

Ron and Hermione wanted to go with me. I tried to keep them out of it. I don't want them hurt. But they want to help me so I wouldn't have to do it alone.

I'm glad they're with me. Maybe I shouldn't be, maybe it's wrong to drag them into this. But I can't help but feel better that they'll be with me, at least for parts of it. They are great friends.

I just wanted you to know that I love you both so much. You rescued me and took me home. 

Thank you.

Love,

Harry //

*****

Harry and Ron slipped down the stairs and met Hermione by her door. Silently the three headed across the empty common room for the picture hole, Harry shaking out the cloak preparing to cover the three of them.

"What are you doing?" a voice, Neville's, broke the stillness. "You're sneaking out again. We'll loose even more points. I can't let you."

"Neville you don't understand," Hermione said desperately.

"Just get out of the way," Ron said.

"No, I'll-I'll fight you," the boy said desperately, raising his fists. "But I'm not going to let you get Gryffindor into any more trouble."

Hermione shook her head and drew her wand. "I'm sorry Neville. _Petri_—"

"No, wait!" Harry called out. He stepped forward and put his hands on Neville's fists, pressing them down gently. "This is important. More important than house points. I'm sorry," he whispered. 

And Neville collapsed in Harry's arms.

"How did you--?" Hermione wondered. "Oh, right."

"Help me," Harry said ignoring the question, and Ron helped him moved the unconscious Neville to the couch by the fire.

Harry slipped the cloak over all three of them and moved out into the corridor towards the third floor.

Peeves hovered on the top of the stairs and must have sensed their presence for he looked up from his mischief.

"Who's there? I can heeeeaar yoooouu!" the poltergeist called. "What creatures lurks, what student shirks his beddy-bye time? I'll catch you! I'll catch you to the--!"

With barely a thought the poltergeist was frozen and Harry rushed the them past him to the door that lead to Fluffy.

It was already ajar.

Someone had gotten there first.

The world seemed to slow down, become amazingly clear, every action and sound precise. It had started. The whole term had lead up to this moment, this place. Harry had not chosen to come to Hogwarts to learn, to play, to make friends . . . he had come for This Place, This Time.

And before him Harry saw success and failure, and darkness in each.

And still he moved ever forward.

Mars was bright tonight.

Harry heard the indrawn breath of the girl beside him, felt the growing tenseness of the boy. 

"Take the cloak and go back?" Harry said quietly.

"Don't be stupid," Ron hissed. 

"We're coming with you," Hermione insisted.

They stepped in and found the massive three headed dog waking up as the last notes from an enchanted harp stopped playing.

Harry threw off the cloak and moved towards the beast, hands raised.

"Harry!" Ron yelped, dragging his friend back.

"Don't worry. He knows me," Harry said. He moved closer and the massive heads turned and snuffed at his sweater, one of them nuzzling his wild black hair.

"Uh, Harry?" Hermione said cautiously, slightly awed by this strange reunion. "Will he let us go down now?"

Harry shook his head. "Hagrid trained him well. He won't even let me down. Luckily . . ." Harry drew out the flute Hagrid had sent him for Christmas and began to play.

Harry was no great musician. The noises he managed to produce barely classified as music, but Hedwig and the other school owls liked it and Harry enjoyed the hooting notes and so apparently did Fluffy.

The dog's eyes began to droop and Ron and Hermione pulled the trapdoor open. The three of them stood looking down into the darkness, Harry still playing. 

"Do we jump?" Ron asked quietly.

"No other way," Hermione said firmly. "Ready? On three. One, two--"

*****

Quietly, the clock in Moor House began to move unnoticed. One hand of three swung from Mischief to Mortal Peril.

*****

tbc

Song lyrics by Vienna Teng "Eric's Song"

Well? What did you think?


	11. CHAPTER XI: Face Off

NOTES: I would like to take this opportunity to urge all writers with good ideas, plot bunnies, or current and ongoing stories to continue to explore their divergent from Book Five plot lines. I love those stories, some of which I have recommended in previous chapters as much as I loved Fifth Book which had me in tears. I also urge you all to explore the post Book Five world as well. Don't hold back. Write, read, create, imagine, share. We're reading.

As for this story in context with books one through five? Already you know that Sirius's past is different in neutral's universe as are our take on the characters. Just because we have some more background on the Marauder's era doesn't mean that I will be changing my portrayal of any of them. Go with what you have read in neutral's stories and previous chapters. As for plot development . . . nothing has changed in this chapter which I wrote long before Fifth Book and my plan for following years is only very very slightly affected. So as you read, assume nothing. 

This chapter is dedicated to one of my favorite characters in the Harry Potter universe. You know who I mean.

*****

CHAPTER XI: Face Off

*****

Straining, still shaking with the feeling of ice flowing in her veins, Hermione scrambled over the burnt vines of Devil's Snare to pull herself and the dead weight that was Ron Wesley up from the trap door. Her hand slipped for an instant and with a cry she nearly fell when strong fingers grasped her wrist. Someone, an immensely tall and strong someone, took Ron from where he lay slumped against her shoulders and pulled them out as if they weighed nothing.

She looked up and found herself facing the imposing features of Severus Snape.

"You!" Hermione gasped. "But--but you're supposed to be-- I mean . . ."

But the Professor was already checking on Ron. "Miss Granger--"

"No!" she cut him off, grabbing hold of his robes, trying to get his attention. "You don't understand! I know we're going to be expelled but Harry's down there!" she said desperately. "We got here too late! Someone had already got past Fluffy." The dog was still asleep, the harp had been re-enchanted to play softly. "I got them out of the Devil's Snare, Harry caught the key, and R-Ron," Hermione fought back tears, remembering Ron's pale face as the White Queen took him. "Harry had to be the one to go on. I was sure of it and so was Ron. I know you hate him, and sort-of-tried-to-hex-him-off-his-broom," she added in a rush "but you _have_ to help him! You have to get Professor Dumbledore back! You-Know-Who wants the Stone!"

"Be quiet, you foolish girl," the Potion Master spat, shaking off her hand. He finished his examination of the unconscious redhead and reached out and grasped her chin, tilting Hermione's face to catch the faint torchlight from the corridor, checking for . . . something. His fingers felt unusually warm against her still icy skin. "Hmph." Releasing her, he moved to the trapdoor, drawing his wand. "Take Mr. Weasley to the Infirmary. I've already sent an owl for the Headmaster."

Hermione pulled out her wand and cast the charms that had her friend floating beside her. "You-you'll help Harry?" she couldn't help but ask.

"GO!" Snape yelled.

Hermione ran.

*****

Harry descended the steps into the final chamber even as flames blocked the path behind him, eyes never leaving the collected, no longer flustered Professor Quirrell. 

The conversation in the Forbidden Forest he'd overheard with Snape, the Potion Master's own half warning half threat, the troll . . .

The pieces were finally falling into place, and still, there was something else missing from this picture . . . something from a dream . . .

A head rolling down stone steps.

A woman's screams.

A hat whispering, hissing in his ear.

Green light.

There remained something more.

Harry did not draw his wand, made no threatening moves. He pushed aside the fear gnawing in his gut, the dull throb of his scar.

He would wait.

"You don't look very surprised," Quirrell said with a laugh.

"Fainting at Halloween was a bit over the top," Harry replied with perfect calm as he managed to take stock of the large stone room they were in, complete with a familiar gilded mirror. 

But no sign of the Stone, Harry realized with a sigh of relief. There remained one more trap, one more test. It had taken all three of them but he'd gotten here before the end.

"If only you'd done my Master the favor of falling to your death during the Quidditch match we wouldn't have to deal with this pointless fighting," Quirrell said in an oily tone. "However, you're not too _big_ of an obstacle," he said slyly. "A first year against a professor who is not quite the trembling rabbit everyone thought." He smiled condescendingly. "Not much of a challenge, _especially_ if he's been having trouble with his wand." 

Harry froze inside. So someone had noticed.

The Professor turned his back to Harry, a clear sign that the Gryffindor's presence was a mere annoyance, not a threat.

The boy forced himself not to act. _Too soon, too _soon something whispered in his ear. It wasn't time yet. If the Mirror of Erised caught the Professor in its spell, Harry need only sit and wait until Dumbledore came and took care of the man. And if Quirrell found the Stone . . .

Harry wouldn't let him leave the room.

"I see the Stone . . . I'm presenting it to my Master . . ." Quirrell said dreamily, lost in the reflection of his hearts desire. "But. WHERE. IS. IT?" He snarled, banging his fist against the mirror.

_"Use the boy,"_ a whisper, a slither of a voice echoed. "_the boy."_

And Harry's scar began to burn. He looked around anxiously, breath catching painfully in his throat.

He wasn't outside the castle, not anymore, he realized with growing dread.

He was _here._

"Potter!" Quirrell snapped, whirling around to face him and Harry jumped. "Come here."

He felt his feet drag him unwillingly forward as if a giant hand was pushing him inexorably towards the mirror. 

And this was his role, this was why he had to be here . . .

It was a horrible thing about Seeing. Once you Saw the future, choice seemed rather a moot point.

Steeling himself for facing the Mirror, Harry tried desperately to control his wildly beating heart. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't want to look again, he had thought of it often, hadn't wished he could simply let the castle lead him back to that wonderful picture of Sirius and his Dad, his Mum and Remus, but_ if the mirror shows us what we desire most, will it show me finding the Stone? Or will it show me my family?_

_And no matter what I see, is war inevitable?_

Harry stepped before the glass, Professor Quirrell standing right behind him, the fowl smell of the man filling his senses, crawling across his skin, causing him to shudder.

He saw only himself at first, pale, scarred, his sweater was torn, his trousers scuffed and dirty. His reflection smiled and nodded at him and then put his hand in his pocket and drew out a blood red stone. Winking, his double put it back.

And the weight of it was real in Harry's pocket.

He had the Philosopher's Stone.

"What do you see?" Quirrell demanded impatiently.

_I must lie._

"I-I see myself . . . I've won the Quidditch cup . . ."

Quirrell cursed, pushing him aside. "Get out of the way!"

Harry fell hard. Ignoring the pain in his arm and side, he hurriedly got him self up and edged carefully, cautiously back to the doorway, the Stone bumping against his leg.

_Just a few more steps._

And then that voice, the very sound of it made Harry's head ache--

"_He lies, he lies!_"

_no, no, no_

"Potter!" roared Quirrell and Harry whirled around to face the man.

He couldn't let him have it, he couldn't! He'd fight, he'd--

"_Let me . . . let me see him . . ._"

And Harry watched in horror as the Professor undid his turban, and he would have screamed if his throat didn't feel as if someone had clawed hands around it. There was something, _something_ terrible on Professor Qui-

(something more alive than silence)

The man turned, dropping purple cloth to the floor, and Harry fought down a cry.

"Harry Potter . . ." the face on the back of the Professor's head whispered.

Harry wanted to scramble back, just get away, _get away _from the horrible half formed features living off of Quirrell, that misshapen face, that half dead thing feeding, leeching, infecting-- 

_no, no, no_

This was what he'd seen in the Forest. This was the--the _thing_ that had murdered his parents.

And it was different-- it shouldn't have been. He'd faced this Dark Wizard before, faced him and beaten him when he and his family had been pulled into that other time, other place.

But just like the James Potter he met there was _not_ his father, the wizard he'd faced down was not his mortal enemy, his opposite, the man whose very fate seemed inexorably tied to his own for reasons he still couldn't fathom.

This man _was_.

This man was the reason for his being.

Voldemort.

"See what I've become," the creature said mournfully in a high scratchy voice that was sickeningly familiar. "See what you have reduced me to? I want that Stone in your pocket. Why don't you give it to me?"

So he knew.

Harry somehow managed to shake his head. "No," he said in a quavering voice.

"Don't be a fool," the creature hissed. "Your mother was. She didn't _have_ to die. Neither do you, boy. Imagine what we could do together. Imagine the miracles we could create, the world we could shape."

Harry raised his chin, clenching his fists. "I've seen your world. I want none of it."

"Stupid child," he spat. "You don't understand. There is no good or evil, only power and those too afraid to take it. Join me and save your own life or *_die*_ . . . begging, screaming for my mercy like your pathetic parents."

Shaking in fury, Harry shouted "NEVER!"

And Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HIM" and Quirrell whirled around and _flew_ towards him, faster than thought, shoving him into the wall of flame which licked at Harry's sweater, catching it alight. 

Harry scrambled away, throwing himself down the steps, rolling, trying to put out the fire. But there was little time with Quirrell bearing down on him. Harry scrambled to his feet, but was knocked down hard, large hands grasped so tight against his wrists he felt the bones rubbing against each other.

Trying not to yell out, the pain of his scar grew. Gritting his teeth, Harry fought to get out from under the man, trying to wrench his hands free before Voldemort could get the Stone.

But to his surprise, without any spell or successful struggle on his part, Quirrell let go of him, scrambling back, screaming, staring at his hands, watching in horror as the flesh began to smolder to ash. Harry tried to get to his feet, half blind with pain, blood dripping from his scar, the smell of burning flesh making him sick. 

"W-What? M-Master what i-is--?" Quirrell stuttered.

"SEIZE HIM! SEIZE HIM!" Voldemort shrieked, his voice rising in pitch painfully and Harry pressed his hands over his ears trying to block out the sound that seemed to set both his scar and blood afire in his veins. He knew that voice, he knew that laugh, it had haunted his dreams all year.

The Professor grabbed Harry again, hands closing round his neck, yanking him up. But Harry didn't struggle. He smelled the familiar sickening scent of cooked meat, reached up and pressed his hands to Quirrell's face.

Quirrell howled in agony. And this was too confusing, this was backwards, and memories from when he was very little now pressed about him--

"It burns, Master! It burns! I can--cannot hold him, my hands, my fa-AAAAAAAGRH! It burns! It--AAAAHHH!"

"Then kill him! Kill him!" Voldemort screamed into his ear.

Harry's hands slipped for a moment-- he couldn't_ breath_! --dark magic, familiar like a sticky fog, grew around them but Harry focused, and the fire beneath his skin was his, was him-- "IT BURNS!! MASTER!"--and the light poured out, it sparkled in the darkness of his fading vision-- he was choking, he couldn't see, but he fought for purchase, trying to reach Voldemort through Quirrell's very skin, trying to burn the monster out of the man.

Quirrell dropped him, screaming and screaming and screaming as he held his ruined hands to his crumbling face. Harry stumbled, coughing, gasping for air. Reaching out, his only thought to get to Voldemort, to stop him, he ignored the rising bile in his throat, the pain lancing across his forehead, his back, and grabbed hold of the man's arm and held on as tight as he could, wasn't going to let go-- 

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"

(I have a prophecy)

and then there was someone calling his name

"Potter! Harry!" 

(threatening to spill into words) 

but he didn't listen, and Quirrell was still screaming and screaming and screaming and the smell of burning filled the air and Harry choked on it, and someone was laughing, laughing and screaming

"_Not Harry! Please not Harry!_" 

(this growing certainty)

and Quirrell's arm crumbled to nothingness beneath his touch

there was nothing left to hold onto

and Harry was lost to the blackness, and he was falling, falling and there was no broom, no wind, no wings, no air to hold him up and then only darkness.

*****

"Severus!" came the hoarse cry. The Potion Master ignore it and the hands helping him up out of the trap door in the floor.

"Oh, Sweet Merlin!"

"Blood! There's blood! He's bleeding!"

"Is he-is he?"

"Get out of the way," Snape snarled, pushing past the various staff members still in their bedclothes and dressing gowns. With a quick ground eating stride the Professor made his way to the Hospital Wing the crumpled form of one Harry Potter an insubstantial weight in his arms.

Professor McGonagall hurried to keep abreast with the Head of Slytherin, Professors Flitwick and Sprout trailing. "Oh, Severus. That foolish boy. He was in my office earlier making up some story that someone was after the Stone. Did he get caught in one of the traps?"

"No," he growled in reply as he pushed open the doors to the infirmary. "Poppy!" he yelled. "Poppy!"

The nurse looked up from where she was tending to Ron Weasley, Hermione hovering by his side. The bushy haired girl took one look at the Potion Master carrying the broken and bleeding Boy Who Lived and burst into tears.

"Oh Harry! Is he all right?"

"All three of you? _Again_?" Professor McGonagall sputtered furiously grabbing Hermione by the arm, shaking her. "How dare you! I thought I made myself _perfectly_ clear that if I caught any of you out of bed after hours it would be expulsion-!"

"Place him here Severus, and then move aside." Efficiently, Madam Pomfrey directed Professor Snape to lay his burden down on one of the cot beside the still unconscious redhead.

"I can't find Quirrell anywhere!" Madam Hooch called as she joined the group in the infirmary. "Where the devil has he run off to now?"

Snape chuckled darkly.

"Severus, if you could please let me work!" Madam Pomfrey demanded trying to work around the man.

"One moment," he said sharply. "Ah-ha," he murmured and drew out a blood red stone from Harry's pocket.

Silence descended with gratifying swiftness.

"The Stone," whispered Professor Flitwick. "But h-how . . . ?"

"Who was it, sir? Who was the traitor?" Hermione asked Professor Snape urgently, pulling away from the gaping transfiguration teacher. "Who was after the Stone if . . .?"

"If it wasn't me you mean?" More than just Hermione looked abashed by that question. Snape snorted derisively. "Quirrell." He stood handing the glowing item over to Madam Hooch who wrapped it carefully into one of the laundered pillowcases piled around the Infirmary.

"Quirrell?" Madam Hooch laughed. "You must be joking."

"I suggest you go down the trapdoor and examine his remains yourself," Snape replied tartly.

"Remains?" Professor Sprout covered her mouth with her hand in shock.

"Yes, _remains_," he said evilly, taking dark delight in the Head of Hufflepuff's sickening expression. "He appears to have been burned alive. From the inside out. Perhaps Miss Granger can explain in more detail how _that_ could have occurred since she knows _so much_."

Hermione swayed on her feet still taking in the news that stuttering Professor Quirrell was the traitor, was the one who was after the Stone all along. "The troll, of course, the troll" she said faintly, fumbling behind her for one of the cots. Professor Sprout helped the girl shakily sit down 

Completely bewildered, the various staff members stared at each other. 

"They've been sneaking about since the beginning of the year, interfering where they shouldn't have," Professor Snape explained bitterly. "And this is the result," He said gesturing to the two boys in infirmary beds. "Potter getting his _friends_ almost killed."

Hermione jumped to her feet, indignation giving her reserves of strength she didn't know she had. "No, It wasn't like that!" 

"Be quiet Miss Granger. If you--"

"No! He would have taken it to You-Know-Who, would have taken it out to the Forest," Hermione cut him off. "Harry said-- Harry said if He got the stone there would be nothing we could do, that we had _no choice_, that it was to be tonight. He didn't want us to come with him! And we tried to tell you, we _tried_," she continue, voice rising, whirling around, eyes wild, focusing now on each of the stunned members of the staff in turn. "But you wouldn't _listen_!"

"And that _somehow_ gave you the right to break a dozen school rules?" the Potion Master queried with obvious sarcasm. "I think _not_."

"Now, now Severus. If-if it wasn't for these three the Stone would be in the hands of You-Know-Who," Professor Flitwick said anxiously.

"Yet a minute ago I swore Minerva was ready to expel these three _heroes_ for their activities."

Professor McGonagall colored brick red. "Professor Snape I resent the implication that-"

"Ah, then blatant favoritism isn't a singular trait reserved for Slytherins after all," he hissed back. "I take it all is forgiven?"

"Now is hardly the time-"

"If they hadn't acted, the Stone--"

"--they should have never--"

"That's hardly fair!"

"--too dreadful to contemplate!"

"You should contemplate it because these three obviously didn't!"

"If they hadn't snuck down--"

"--jumping in head first, no thought to the consequences or the--"

"If I could have some quiet, my patients--!"

The doors of the Infirmary slammed open for the third time that night and Professor Dumbledore and a sobbing Hagrid entered.

The Headmaster cut through his staff, dodging questions and greetings, taking possession of the stone, and sending all of the staff but Severus, Hagrid, and Pomfrey out of the room.

Dumbledore then he made a beeline for the children. He offered a smile to Hermione and a handkerchief, which she accepted with a watery smile of her own, and with a whispered word sent her to sleep. He placed a hand on Ron's shoulder staring intently into the still freckled face for long moments before he was satisfied by whatever he'd seen. 

And then he went to Harry.

"Poppy?" he asked quietly, watching, hovering as the nurse had Harry propped up against her, the limp form leaning forward as she waved her wand over his blistering back. Finished, the marks fading, Madam Pomfrey laid the boy back down bringing his blood and soot stained face into sharp relief.

"I've never seen a scar bleed, not one healed so," she replied quietly as she spread a healing slave on the dark ring of bruises that circled the boy's neck.

Sighing Dumbledore sat on the edge of the bed, taking one small hand in his. He looked every one of his years. "And what of Quirrell, Severus?" he asked the dark man standing at the foot of the bed.

"Dead."

"And Voldemort?"

Snape was silent for a long moment, remembering the sight that had greeted him as he'd banished the flames in the last chamber and saw past them, saw Harry and Quirrell . . .

"He was somehow . . . a part of Quirrell. He fled Quirrell's body as he died."

Smothering a gasp, Madam Pomfrey tried to focus on her patient and not so obviously on the conversation.

"And the children?"

Hagrid burst into noisy sobs, reminding everyone that he was in fact still in the room. "It's-all-my-ruddy-fault! I told that evil git how to get past Fluffy, the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him. Harry here came askin', he and Ron put it all together! I didn' realize . . . they all could o' _died!_ And after they spent all that time helpin' me with Norbert! I should be given the sack, I should!"

He dug a massive handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose explosively.

"Calm yourself, Hagrid. Voldemort played to all our weaknesses, it's what he does best." The Headmaster handed the Stone over to the Potion Master. "If you would send an owl to Nicholas informing him that we will have to go with our original plan after all. Hagrid, if you could ask Minerva to firecall Sirius. I believe he and Remus will wish to be here for Harry."

"O' course," Hagrid said snuffing, leaving after one last look at the children. 

Both men watched in silence a Madam Pomfrey finished applying salve to the bruises on Harry's wrists, face, his thin chest. The scrapes and cuts were disinfected, several of the deeper ones bandaged, the fractured ribs wrapped tight, and the blood washed off Harry's pale face, neck, and hands. Dumbledore helped her ease the small boy into bed clothes. She left a sole candle burning and after checking on Ron and tucking Hermione in, she left the alone, knowing better than to stay and listen.

"Albus," Snape said carefully from the shadows "if you knew-"

"But I didn't, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly from where he sat. "I am not omniscient no matter what people may believe. I only knew the letter to be a distraction upon finally having a chance to speak with Cornelius. If you mean that Voldemort was in the castle, I was just as surprised as you."

"But to encourage _Potter_," he spat. "And him dragging his so-called friends headlong into danger, allowing him free reign to act as recklessly as--"

"What I did or did not do to aid Harry made precious little difference. He had already solved most of it by Christmas. He has an insatiable curiosity which has only flourished during his time here as I had hoped. Hogwarts is quite fond of him, as are his yearmates. I am very glad that he made friends. I fear that this," he said gesturing towards the Stone in the other man's hand "was in fact his sole reason for attending school at all. He Saw that he was needed, though he didn't know for what or why or when. It prompted and pressed at him all year. And so Harry came here to blindly face his dream. He came to attend Hogwarts because of what he Saw, and for that purpose alone."

"So that mongrel Black has been filling his head with delusions of his own self importance, with _arrogance_ just like his father, and he's eaten it up-" Severus said in obvious disgust.

"No, Severus," the Headmaster countered sadly. "Harry's guardians and myself have been trying for over two years now to undo something that, I suppose from a twisted perspective, is my fault. Someone," he said heavily "convinced this dear boy that the only excuse for him outliving his parents was to kill Voldemort, nothing more. That he was worth consideration only insofar as he was a willing to be a tool, a weapon to be wielded and discarded, and that he should be grateful for it."

Silence was the only reply to that revelation. Behind him, Dumbledore heard the Head of Slytherin fade back into the darkness and take his leave. Returning his attention to Harry, he sat watch over the children in the darkest hour of the night.

*****

"WHAT?" 

The yelling woke Remus. He raised his head from his desk, and blinked in the darkness of his study. It sounded like Sirius, he thought muzzily.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU PLAYING AT?"

That _was_ Sirius. Jumping up, Remus came running and saw McGonagall in the fire. Sirius was pale faced, looking like death. He staggered back missing the chair completely as he attempted to sit. 

The transfiguration professor looked on sadly. 

Remus moved forward worriedly, grabbing Sirius's arm. There was only one thing that could cause this type of reaction in Padfoot, he realized with growing dread.

"Harry," he asked desperately. "What happened to Harry?"

"He's alive, exhausted and resting. He'll be fine," McGonagall said quickly. Moony stared down at Sirius's stunned face. There was more to this story, Remus knew it.

"Padfoot?" he asked quietly.

"Voldemort," Sirius's voice rasped harshly. Remus suppressed a flinch as did McGonagall. After 6 years in Azkaban the name no longer frightened Sirius, precious little did. "Voldemort had someone at Hogwarts. All. Year. Harry fought him, stopped him, he was attacked, would have been killed, the traitor dead, Harry was forced to . . . Dumbledore wasn't even there! Snape found him! SNAPE!" Sirius was now roaring. 

Jumping to his feet he pointed his finger accusingly at the figure in the fire. "Where were you? You, the Head of his House! You said he tried to warn you, came to you. Did you ignore him? Tell him not to worry?" McGonagall flushed darkly with guilt. "Damnit woman! Don't you realize that Harry thinks it's his DUTY to stand against that monster and his followers? That it's taken years to even begin to convince him otherwise? And you didn't. Listen. To. Him?!"

"Padfoot, please calm down. Harry's going to be fine. We'll go to see him--" 

Remus looked at the clock which showed Way Past Bedtime for him and Sirius. Harry's was firmly stuck between Mortal Peril and Hospital. Moony gulped. _God, why hadn't he noticed?_

"Tomorrow." he said hurriedly, stepping in front of the family clock so that Sirius couldn't see Harry's hand. "He's safe. We'll go early tomorrow morning and see him. He's probably fast asleep right now. He'll wake up and he'll see us there and everything will be better."

"Sirius, I promise you he's resting quietly. The threat is gone," Minerva said anxiously.

"There threat should never have been there to start," Sirius spat at his old teacher "Harry doesn't lie! Harry _never_ lies! You should have believed him." He yanked his arm free of his friend he stalked out of the room.

"Still hot tempered," McGonagall joked weakly, relieved that the hardest part of the firecall was over. Sirius may not have been the mass murderer he was accused of being, but no one could deny the sheer strength and intensity of a man who held onto his sanity in Azkaban for six years.

Remus turned his amber eyes slowly to the fire, pinning the witch there. "Tell me from the start, Professor," the werewolf said coldly as he settled himself in the chair by the fire, steepling his fingers, the very picture of attentiveness bellying the icy fury that tinged his precise words. "Tell me how one of the Dark Lord's agents got into Hogwarts unnoticed and why Harry was the only one there to stop him."

McGonagall gulped noticeably. Perhaps she had relaxed too soon.

*****

Sirius couldn't sleep. He didn't even bother to try. He stood in the middle of his room, fists clenched, breathing hard, angry so angry.

_Why?_

Why was it _always_ Harry?

He paced his room, six and a half steps east, turn, six and a half steps west, the precise dimensions of his cell in Azkaban which he had paced over a hundred thousand times, thoughts twisting his mind into knots, fury growing in his belly.

This was unacceptable. Unacceptable!

Harry was not supposed to be fighting trolls and saving mystical stones. Harry was supposed to be having fun, studying, playing Quidditch.

That's what Hogwarts was for, not death defying battles! Especially not for little boys like Harry!

No, enough was enough. He should have stood firm last summer. There was no need for Harry to go to Hogwarts, especially when he was having one of his visions.

Well this time he would, Sirius told himself fiercely. Harry was coming home _now_ where it was safe and that was that.

Halting his frantic pacing he focused and apparated with a pop.

*****

Sirius swept like a pale ghost through the dim halls of Hogwarts towards the infirmary.

He came at last to his boy laying straight and pale and small and so unnatural in a little infirmary cot. Harry had always curled up in his sleep, taking up the smallest space possible even in his giant bed back home. It always made Sirius's heart ache, a remnant of that hateful dusty cupboard under the stairs where Harry was locked in the dark. 

For a moment Sirius hesitated at touching his godson. In the other beds there was a redhead boy Sirius easily recognized from Harry's many letters as Ronald Weasley, a bandage wrapped around his forehead, his left arm in a sling. Across the room curled up under some of the sterile sheets was a girl with bushy hair, a handkerchief clasped loosely in one hand. This could only be Hermione Granger. They lay sleeping, but Harry, Harry was still like death.

Unnerved, wanting to ensure his senses that Harry was indeed alive, Sirius reached out and touched Harry's face with the back of his hand. The soft breath, the warmth, reassured him and he was suddenly propelled into action. 

He scooped up the limp form, bedclothes and all and simply walked out of the infirmary, out of Hogwarts, passed the wards, and smiling softly at his godson, he apparated them both home.

Quietly, Sirius climbed the stairs past Moony's closed door and into Harry's room, untouched since Christmas. Shifting Harry negligible weight in his arms he pulled down the covers and lay the boy in his own bed. 

Brushing the wild inky hair back, he noted in the faint light the tender scrapes, the blood red scar, the faint healing burns, and the purpling bruises on his child's face. 

"Harry?" he whispered. No response. Brow furrowing, Sirius curled up, leaning against the headboard and watched over his godson well into the morning.

*****

tbc

Song lyrics from "Between" by Vienna Teng

Recommendations: Go read Fifth Book. If you've already read it, go read it again. If you've done that, go back to Book one and start all over again.

Reviews: Never have I gotten so many reviews for a chapter I threw together at the last minute. I thought of it as a filler, tying up loose ends but you guys loved it. I guess I'll just have to do even MORE cliffhangers! snicker, snicker

I got so many reviews about Sirius's reaction to the clock. I hope you found his reaction true to his wonderful character. Expect more in the next chapter. 

Liara- Glad you liked the bit about Hermione. And Ron's fear of girls is only just shy of still believing in cooties. ;) As for Die Voldemort Die, I echo your sentiment but would add a few Death Eaters to the mix.

Athenakitty- I've tried to keep the trials the same except the final battle with Voldemort. As you can see, only Moony caught the clock and it was too late to do anything. Not that that is stopping Sirius! As for Harry's letter . . . wait and see.

Von- I can see Sirius installing the alarm now. Actually Harry did need Hermione and Ron. He may have a more instinctive grasp of magic and the gift from Fawkes at the end of "Of Western Stars" but he is still struggling with his wand and wandless magic is easily turned astray by careless thoughts. Harry is not a master chess player like Ron and Hermione is still a brilliant witch. It was very much a team effort.

Reiken- I think you've hit the nail on the head. Harry is both old and young as the Sorting Hat noted.

bec b- I am so glad this story exceeded your expectations. Thank you for reading.

Englishgirl- The universal gesture for escape while you can is frantic gesturing to run, run, run by waving the arms in a manner resembling Kermit the Frog's excited cheers on the Muppet Show.

Aria- Oh yeah it is not going to be pretty when Sirius and Remus confront their godson.

ChristinaLupin01442- Tell Sirius that I understand that he is worried and I hope he enjoyed his little adventure in this chapter. I'm soo flattered by a review from Paddy himself!

Go ahead and review and let me know if you liked the battle and the characters!


	12. CHAPTER XII: The Gryffindor in Summer

Notes: Sorry for the delay. I was having trouble with this chapter; it just didn't want to come together. ARG! I do want to point out I had all but one scene (no not the Dumbledore one) written long before the Fifth Book came out. And though many of you asked, I will repeat again for the general audience. YES I plan to continue. I do have a commitment to another fandom first, and I want most of year two written and read by neutral before I post (my muse is a fickle creature), but I intend to continue.

THANKS AGAIN TO NEUTRAL WHOM WITHOUT HER IMAGINATION, CREATIVITY, ASSISTANCE, AND GENEROSITY THIS FIC WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE.

Recommendations: Of all of the "reaction" to Order of the Phoenix stories some of which are good some of which are just that, "reaction" only, the most unique, the one that has struck me as the most interesting which I recommend here today is by Ruxi. The fic is titled "Beyond Redemption" and has the odd habit of updating the latest chapter with new writing at the bottom rather than adding new chapters entirely. A very complex story and well worth a look.

Reviews: 

Wishweaver- I've always found it more believable that someone other than Dumbledore rescued Harry, otherwise why didn't he get there sooner and prevent the whole darn thing? I am hoping to carry on with other years though I want most of year two written before I post and want to get a chapter in a couple of other fandom fics I have ongoing written first to stave off furious and ravenous readers. When can we expect more of YOUR story?

LadyFirebolt- I'm glad this story in some small way helped you get over your reaction to Order of the Phoenix. I hope the extra goodies I spend the last week adding to this chapter 

MerlinHalliwell- Yes I'm planning on doing more years, though as mentioned above, I want to get lots written before I post as my muse is a fickle creature. Thanks for the lovely review. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Riddikulus- I am so glad that you thought the battle worked. In your own fic, the suspense levels and fights are so vivid and captivating. It is good to know that the last chapter wasn't just a flat retelling of JKR's work.

BellaMonte- Thank you thank you thank you again for your wonderfully detailed review. I love receiving them.

DragongirlG- I guess I didn't make it clear that Sirius apparrted to Hogwart's gates and then entered the castle. Ooops! My bad! Good of you to catch it.

To all of you who reviewed. Thank you. You have made my first foray into the HP fandom most pleasant. I hope to be a part of it for a long time. grin

*****

CHAPTER XII: The Gryffindor in Summer

*****

"and the taste of dried-up hopes in my mouth  
and the landscape of merry and desperate drought  
how much longer dear angels  
let winterlight come  
and spread your white sheets over my empty house"

-- Vienna Teng "Drought"

Remus got up at the crack of dawn and dressed in a scrambled hurry. Running to Padfoot's room he threw open the door. 

Empty.

"Damn."

He hurried to the fireplace muttering curses under his breath. If Sirius was going to get up and go really really _really_ early he should have least had the sense to wake _him_ up to go too! "Inconsiderate mutt."

Senses tingling, Remus hesitated, floo powder in hand. Harry had been here. Recently. Harry's scent filled the manor once more. Growling and taking the stairs three at a time, the werewolf ran towards Harry's bedroom door and threw it open. 

"SIRIUS BLA--!"

Halting at the threshold, anger drained out of him. Padfoot was asleep against the headboard, one arm over Harry's chest, the other curled in Harry's wild hair. 

And Harry, Harry so pale in the morning light, was too still to be sleeping. 

Sighing, Remus went around to the other side of the bed and tucked the boy in under a mountain of both infirmary bedclothes and his own red and gold feather duvet. He checked him for fever before toeing off his boots and slipping out of his top robe and curling up on the bed. Both Marauders' flanking their best friend's son, they guarded him through the morning.

*****

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts . . .

Chaos. Pandemonium. Terror.

Hermione woke up and sleepily turned her eyes towards her two friends. Ron's red hair was shocking against the hospital white of his pillow. And Harry was. . . . Hermione blinked.

Harry was Not There.

The bed was stripped of linen, like the beds in hospital dramas on television her mum liked to watch.

The Gryffindor fought for breath.

They only stripped beds like that when patients had _died._

Ron fell out of bed at the sound of a quite uncharacteristic piercing scream.

"Wha--?"

He sat up gripping his bound arm and stared at Hermione's pale face and wild eyes from across the aisle between the infirmary cots. The last thing he remembered was the Philosopher's Stone, chess, the White Queen advancing with the finality of death. He groaned suddenly as his head reminded him of why exactly he was in the infirmary.

Hermione tore her eyes away from wherever she was staring in fright and informed Ron rather loudly what had so upset her.

"HARRY'S DEAD! HE'S DEAD!"

Shock propelled an unsteady Ron to his feet where he beheld the bare cot, the round rimmed glasses folded carefully, abandoned on a nearby bedside tray.

"No," he breathed. His legs failed him and he collapsed hard onto the stone floor. "Oh no, no, no, no . . ."

Madam Pomfrey was asleep in her office when the noises in her domain woke. _The children,_ she thought in terror. Dashing off so fast that she left her cap behind, she entered the infirmary proper to find a sobbing Hermione clinging to a positively green Ron who was shaking so hard he looked ready to fly apart.

The stricken boy was muttering over and over a mantra of denial. " . . . no, no, no, no, no . . ."

"What are you doing up? What is going on in here?" Poppy glanced around angrily, trying to figure out what had disturbed her patients so, and saw 

The Bed. 

"Wh-where is Mr. Potter?!" she gasped.

Broken out of daze, Ron met her eyes. "You don't KNOW?!" he howled trying to stand. That proved a bad idea. Hermione dragged him back down just in time for him to lean over a nearby basin and be violently sick.

Rushing back into her office, Poppy activated her fire and yelled for the Headmaster and every other teacher in Hogwarts.

Harry Potter was missing.

*****

Sirius stirred, burrowing his head to avoid the bright sunlight burning though his eyelids. Scowling when that didn't work he growled under his breath, forcing open his eyes.

Surprised for a moment to see a familiar window view from childhood, he blinked and squinted. Stretching he felt his spine crack from sleeping in such an odd position. 

His hands brushed something soft and fine. Absently he looked down and saw his godson lying still and straight under the covers, a familiar werewolf flanking Harry to his left. 

Sitting up suddenly, he remembered his late night journey to Hogwart's infirmary and back. He ran a cautious hand across Harry's chest, feeling the heavy wrap of bandages and the more comforting rise and fall with every breath the boy took. Sighing, Sirius slid lower and onto his side, eyes never leaving Harry's pale slight features.

On the other side of his godson, his friend stirred to wakefulness.

"Mmm," One amber eye opened, and Moony propped himself up on his elbows. "How is he?" he asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Still out," Sirius whispered.

Remus let out an explosive breath, part frustration part relief. He opened his mouth, no doubt to scold, but the black haired Marauder cut him off.

"Don't Moony. Just-- just _don't_."

"I wasn't--!"

"Aren't you angry?" Sirius hissed cutting him off. "Aren't you _furious_ that they let this happen to _our_ Harry, James and Lily's little boy? He was supposed to go to Hogwarts to _learn_, to make friends, to have _fun_, not save the staff and the world from their own bloody incompetence! And this hasn't been going on just last night, oh no. At Halloween Harry took out a troll that bastard Quirrell let into the castle. He was nearly hexed off his broom at his first Quidditch match. And did we know about it? Did anyone of those teachers _think_ to inform us that our Harry was in danger?"

Remus eyes flashed dangerously as he heard the list of trials Harry'd had to face. Professor McGonagall hadn't been as forthcoming as he'd hoped she would be. 

"Of course I'm angry," he growled. It was nowhere near the full moon, but the wolf suddenly seemed so close. Sirius was unafraid. "I'm angry enough to _hurt _. . . someone." He reached out and placed his hand across Harry's neck, fingers brushing the scar that had bled the three of them together as one. "We gave him into their care and he was hurt, Harry was _hurt._" Remus pressed his lips together but not before a high pitch whine escaped. "But I-I can't Padfoot--" Moony withdrew his hand, as if burned, sat up and turned to face the window. "I can't let myself . . ."

Sirius sat up and grabbed Remus's shoulder. "Hey," he whispered, shaking the other gently. "I'll get angry enough for both of us," he said wryly.

Moony turned his head slightly and nodded.

"I'll get angry," Padfoot continued "and we'll _both_ make sure our little Harry Hawk knows not to keep things from us anymore."

"But first," Remus said standing slowly and moving to stare out of the window, "there's an intruder I think we should take care of."

Sirius had his wand out and ready before Moony had finished the word "intruder." He was crouched on the bed, his free hand hovering protectively over Harry's still form. "What intruder?" 

"If I'm not mistaken Professor Dumbledore sent one of his staff to make sure we do in fact have Harry, and that some _random stranger_ didn't just waltz out of Hogwarts with him." He replied tartly shooting the Animagus a withering glance. Sirius didn't even have enough shame to blush. 

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Moony peered out the window for a closer look. "I'm not sure who it is, but they're caught in that binding trap you set up in the oak grove."

Padfoot looked visibly torn between confronting the Hogwarts intruder and staying and keeping watch over his godson.

"I'll go," Moony said with an understanding smile, taking a moment to smooth down the boy's unruly hair before leaving the room.

Sirius tucked his wand under a pillow and was prepared to get comfortable before an insistent tapping got his attention. Looking back up at the window he saw Hedwig fluttering at the glass, frantic to get in. Quickly rising he opened the window. 

She flew past him, landing silently on the bed bobbing her head low to stare at her boy.

Catching sight of the letter attached to her leg, he snatched at it, ignoring her snapping at his hands. With shaking fingers he turned the envelope over and recognizing Harry's messy scrawl of an address on the front. He tore it open, devouring its contents.

Shutting his eyes tight once he'd read what could have been Harry's last words, Padfoot sat with a thump on the bed. "Oh Harry," he whispered. He reached out and gathered the boy gently into his arms, holding him close, remembering the first time he had done this since that horrible Halloween night, that first time all those years ago in the park near the Dursleys' house where he'd held James and Lily's son.

The despair he felt was too familiar. Too often had he sat in this position in the past years. Each time he'd silently vowed _never again_. Never again would this child be hurt. Helplessly he could only echo his promise and hope.

Hope that this would never happen again.

*****

Remus followed the sounds of swearing. The voice, he noted, was strangely familiar.

He entered the grove and it took only seconds to identify the intruder. 

Severus Snape hung upside down from a tree, no amount of spells or charms able to dislodge him.

Lupin cleared his throat, valiantly suppressed a laugh and bringing a halt to the cursing. "Let him down please," he said in a clear voice and the oak complied, setting Severus right side up on the ground.

Furiously, the man started rearranging his most imposing black robes that currently looked ridiculously tangled and leaf filled. It distracted from whatever effect the now grown Severus Snape wanted to portray. Remus grinned, inexplicably reminded of the quiet fierce Slytherin boy who had pitted himself against four Marauders in mutual warfare and held his own.

"A trap that releases you if you are kind," Snape sneered. "What a . . . _Gryffindor_ type of defense."

Other than Sirius, only Snape had ever made a House name practically an insult to rival "mudblood."

"Hello Severus. I imagine you are here on purpose. Would you like some breakfast? Or," the werewolf corrected, peering at the angle of the sunlight filtered through the leaves. "an early lunch?"

The Potion Master looked down on Lupin. "I am here to check on the Potter boy to make sure that the idiotic bastard Black hasn't . . . _injured_ Dumbledore's precious pupil."

Lupin's affable expression darkened. Perhaps Sirius wasn't overreacting when he claimed Snape didn't like Harry. "I'm surprised you knew to look for him here what with agents of the Dark Lord at the school," Remus responded harshly as he began walking back to the house. "You'd think taking a student out of the infirmary with such a _competent_ staff would be much more difficult."

"When you two didn't show up screaming in the morning it was an obvious answer to the boy's whereabouts," the Professor snapped falling into step with the werewolf. "I take it he is still _dead _to the world?" he asked silkily.

Remus ignored him, pushing open the kitchen door and put the kettle on.

Severus stood near the door, arms folded, scowl fixed in place. He didn't enter as if simply stepping inside Moor House was a contaminating experience and he wanted to avoid over exposure. "No need to play the house elf, Lupin. Let me see the boy and I'll leave you to your exile."

Remus began to pull out last night's leftovers out of the Icing Cupboard. "Would it be so terrible to eat lunch with a werewolf?" he queried calmly.

Snape smiled, thin lipped, and more akin to a grimace than a look of pleasure. "I tend to abstain from eating raw meat."

Remus finished setting the table and took his seat not waiting on ceremony with the Slytherin. "I'm not that bad a cook, though Harry is better."

The Professor snorted derisively. "Potter? He's absolutely incompetent. He can't even stir a potion correctly. He's done abysmally all year," he said with dark pleasure. "No doubt he will fail the exam if he ever manages to wake up."

Remus stilled. He realized immediately what Harry's problem in Potion's was and would not be surprised nor the least bit angry if Harry failed the class. (Though being held back a year would give Sirius even more ammunition in his impending summer campaign to "Pull Harry out of Hogwarts" that Remus knew was coming with the certainty of the moon.) "And no doubt you spend your time breathing down his neck. I charge anyone to do anything constructive let alone _learn_ with _you_ hovering." Remus finished with a sharp smile. And that hit a nerve, the Marauder knew. Remus had been highly sought out as a tutor during his Hogwarts years; despite his unique and exceptionally powerful skills Snape rarely ever was. Coupled with Snape's venomous dislike of James Potter's son, Harry would be barely capable of concocting anything with Snape growling behind him especially in such close proximity to an open flame.

"Where. Is. Potter?" Snape growled through his clenched jaw.

"With Sirius. I'm sure," Remus continued pleasantly "that Sirius would be so . . . _pleased_ to see you. I believe he corresponded with you earlier in the term?" he asked innocently.

The Potion Master strode forward and threw Harry's glasses down on the table and then turned on his heel and walked out of Moor House, slamming the door behind him.

"Don't forget to be nice to the trees or you'll be trapped again!" Moony called out with false cheerfulness.

Whatever Snape's reply, it was probably better that it was lost on the wind.

*****

Ron, recently released from the infirmary, came to a halt in front of the Great Hall doors beside Hermione, winching at the yelling he heard coming inside.

"What the--?" he asked Hermione.

The witch shook her head. "I don't know," she responded raising her voice to be heard over the screaming. "But it sounds familiar."

"Yeah, it almost sounds like . . ."

The two first years shared a look and then threw open the door. Sirius Black's words became understandable and distinct as they once again shook the entire Hall filled with students who sat stunned in the midst of dinner.

"---YOU HIRED THAT INCOMPETENT! YOU LET THAT SPAWN OF VOLDERMORT TEACH MY GODSON! YOU NEARLY LET HIM KNOCK HIM OFF HIS BROOM AND THEN YOU LEFT! YOU LEFT THAT BLOODY STONE AT THE SCHOOL AND WENT OUT JOY RIDING FOR THE IDIOT FUDGE WHO COULDN'T GOVERN HIS WAY OUT A PAPER BAG! YOU LEFT BEHIND CHILDREN, _CHILDREN_ ALL ALONE IN THE CASTLE WITH THAT FILTH! YOU AND YOUR INADEQUATE STAFF LEFT IT UP TO MY GODSON AND TWO OTHER FIRST YEARS TO DEFEND THE WIZARDING WORLD! ARE YOU SENILE?"

Taking their seats, Hermione leaned over and yelled in Lavender's ear. "How long has this been going on?"

"Fourteen minutes and counting!" Lavender yelled back.

Ron shot Hermione a questioning look from across the table and she held up first ten then four fingers. The redhead's jaw dropped. This had to be a record. Fred and George would know for sure. Ron made a mental note to ask them as soon as he regained his hearing.

"YOUR GREASY POTION MASTER HAD ALREADY STUCK HIS BIG NOSE ABOUT AND FOUND OUT THAT IT WAS QUIRRELL! DON'T DENY IT! THEN WHAT DO YOU DO? DO YOU FIRE THE MAN? INVESTIGATE HIM? PUT HIM ON WATCH? GUARD HIM? PUT TRAPS AROUND THE STONE? TRAPS THAT FIRST YEARS CAN'T GET THROUGH? NO! YOU LEAVE IT TO CHILDREN TO DO YOUR DIRTY WORK! HARRY WAS NEARLY KILLED PROTECTING WHAT YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN _PERSONAL_ RESPONSIBILITY OF!" 

"HOW DARE YOU CARELESSLY LEAVE IT TO A BOY, A MERE CHILD, TO CARRY THE WEIGHT OF THE WIZARDING WORLD! THE WIZARDING WORLD CAN GO HANG! YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF! YOU AND YOUR STAFF! AND DON'T THINK I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THAT LITTLE LATE CHRISTMAS PRESENT YOU SENT HARRY AND ALL THOSE "ENCOURAGING" NOTES BEFORE YOU WENT TRAPSING OFF TO LONDON! IF YOU EVER TRY THAT MANIPULATIVE MERLIN SHITE ON HARRY AGAIN, VOLERMORT WILL BE THE LEAST OF YOUR WORRIES! YOU'LL ANSWER TO _ME!"_

The letter tore itself into smoking confetti and fell silent. Dumbledore blinked repeatedly in the sudden silence.

"Albus?" Professor McGonagall leaned over and placed a solicitous hand on the Headmaster's arm. "Are you all right?"

"Forgive me, Minerva. I was merely . . . surprised." he said absently. "I haven't received a Howler since my thirteenth year and that was for sneaking into the girl's bathroom and setting loose several white mice." 

Down below at the Gryffindor table, spirits were high, ringing in the ears was fast fading.

"Harry _is_ alive!" Ron said happily. "I guess Professor Snape was telling the truth."

"A Howler to Dumbledore." Hermione shook her head. "I can't believe it."

"Brilliant," George said in awe, leaning in to join their conversation. "First Professor Snape, then the motorbike, now this. Harry's godfather knows no fear!"

"Of course he's fearless. He escaped from Azkaban," Fred scoffed as he loaded his plate with boiled potatoes.

"So Professor Quirrell was working for You-Know-Who?" Neville asked fearfully.

Ron nodded and swallowed. "Harry saw him in the Forbidden Forest feeding of the unicorns," he revealed.

"You-Know-Who so close!" Lavender whispered, horrified.

"Do you think Harry'll be back before the game?" Oliver called down the table anxiously.

"Oh yeah! The Quidditch Cup," Ron groaned.

"We have a chance of actually getting back in the running for the House Cup too if Harry plays," Seamus said stoutly.

"Oh you _boys_! Harry nearly _died_! And all you can think about is Quidditch?" Hermione scolded throwing down her fork. "He's probably still unconscious and all you can think about is the ruddy Cup. He stopped You-Know-Who!"

"Now is not the time for Quidditch," Percy put in authoritatively ignoring Oliver's incredulous glance and sputtering protestations. "All three of you risked your lives to stop You-Know-Who. Not that I'm advocating sneaking out after hours," he said sternly "Breaking rules, cursing classmates, loosing points, I condone none of that behavior! But if you hadn't Merlin only knows if we'd even be _alive_ now."

"Here, here!" Seamus said raising his glass. "To brave Gryffindors!"

"To Harry," Ron and Hermione replied, raising their own.

*****

Harry blinked fuzzily. Red and gold was all he could make out. Uncertain of where he was or what had happened raised one hand and rubbed his eyes, a bit bewildered by its bandaged state. He jumped when he felt careful hands place his glasses upon his nose.

"Shh . . . just me Harry. It's just Padfoot."

Vision clear, Harry realized he was in his bed at home with Sirius sitting beside him, brushing his hair back gently. Harry wondered if he was dreaming. It was the best dream he'd had in a long time if he was.

"How are you feeling?" Sirius asked with a smile.

Harry wracked his brain and tried to think back. Suddenly he sat up with a cry. "The Stone?! Voldemort! What happened? Ron? Hermione?"

"Shh. It's all right. It's all right now." Padfoot held him close, soothing his panic. "You're fine. You're friends are just fine. Voldemort is gone and the Stone has been taken care of. You're safe. Hush now. Shh."  
  


Relaxing with a boneless sigh, Harry burrowed deeper into his godfather's arms.

"He didn't get the Stone?" he asked quietly.

"No, no he didn't. You stopped him," Sirius assured him.

"Ron and Hermione are all right? What about Neville?" he asked anxiously into his godfather's shirt.

"All your schoolmates are fine, just fine. Worried about you of course, but fine."

"What-- what about Professor Quirrell?" he managed, voice breaking.

The hand gently rubbing Harry's back stilled and Padfoot grew tense. "He's gone," Sirius said at last, his voice nothing more than a fridged whisper. Harry pulled back and stared into those ice filled eyes.

"He's dead, isn't he? I killed him," Harry said thinly. His hands let go of his godfather and fell into his lap. "My touch burned him to ash. I grabbed him, I-I did it on p-purpose. I held on and wouldn't let go. He was . . . screaming-- screams in my ear, trying to shake me off, screaming to kill me, screaming . . . it burns, Master, it burns, it burns, it burns . . ."

"Shh, shh quiet now. No more Harry. No more now," Sirius said firmly, holding him tight with a fierce tenderness, rocking him, trying to stop the disjointed flow of words that displayed the true horror of what had occurred in stark detail. "You were so brave. So very brave. You shouldn't have to be, but you are. My little Gryffindor," he whispered, brushing a kiss on his wild black hair. "You don't have to ever go back to Hogwarts. You can stay here. You never have to leave You said it was . . .important to go this year." Sirius nearly choked on the words, a strange desperation filling him. "But it's all over, all over now. You don't have to go back."

Harry fought to regain his voice. It felt like there was a painful lump in his throat and he knew that if he wasn't careful he would start crying and he hadn't cried in forever. 

"What about exams?" he managed to croak, fighting off the burning in his eyes. "And the Quidditch final, Padfoot. I have to play for Gryffindor."

"You've been asleep for three days. I think you missed the match," Sirius explained with a sad laugh. "And as for exams, forget about exams. We'll start summer early."

Worried green eyes peered up at him. "But Ron and Hermione will be worried if I don't go back. Ron nearly died when we were playing wizards chess. The White Queen took him, you see. He was the knight and the knight had to be sacrificed so we could cross the board in time."

That was perhaps the wrong thing to say to convince his godfather Harry realized as soon as he felt Sirius go ridged. But then after a long moment Padfoot sighed.

"We'll see how you're feeling and decide whether you can go back for the Feast."

"And exams?"

"I think you've had enough excitement and worry without_ them_," Sirius said firmly. _Or next year,_ he thought to himself determinedly. "Lie back down now," he said, tucking his godson in tight.

Harry curled up in his usual tight ball beneath the covers until Sirius eased him into a slightly more natural position.

"No dreams tonight," Sirius soothed taking off his glasses and blowing out the light on the bedside table. "No dreams. Just sleep. I'm here, Harry. I'm here." He hummed an old song, familiar, comforting, under his breath, snatches of words reaching Harry's ears as Sirius sat beside him. 

Padfoot wouldn't ever leave him.

Green eyes fluttered closed. Truly relaxed for the first time since his Hogwart's letter came, Harry slept without dreams.

*****

Gripping the railing with one bandaged hand, Harry peered down at the room below. He really wasn't supposed to be up yet, but the sun had woken him and he'd spent almost five days in bed, three of them completely unconscious and now he was tired of bed and ready to get up. He had gone in search of Sirius and Remus. From the kitchen he could here their voices.

Smiling he came down the stairs as fast as his protesting body would let him and pushed open the door to the kitchen, peering around the edge to see what his guardians were up to.

He obviously wasn't as sneaky as he thought because as one Padfoot and Moony turned to see him.

"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed standing up and coming over to him. "What on earth are you doing out of bed?" he scolded. 

"I couldn't go back to sleep and I thought that because--"

He began escorting Harry back through the living room to the stairs. "Back upstairs Harry, you're still—"

"I'm feeling much better," Harry assured him, turning to face Padfoot trying to delay the inevitable return to bed. 

"You should have called for us instead of coming down the stairs; we were going to bring you breakfast this morning," Remus explained, his focus diverted as he took in the bruises and the scrapes on the boy's face. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right," Harry insisted quietly.

"You sure?" Sirius asked worriedly as in compromise he settled Harry on the couch, tucking a blanket around him. "You really shouldn't be up and about for another couple days at least."

"The Farwell Feast is day after tomorrow," Harry blurted out before he could stop himself. Noting Sirius's stilled hands in mid motion, Harry pressed on. "I missed my Potions and Transfiguration exams, but do you think I could be allowed go back for the feast anyway? I want to see Ron and Hermione, make sure they're all right."

Remus smiled and opened his mouth, no doubt to agree when the Animagus cut him off.

"Well," Sirius said slowly. "We wanted to talk to you about that."

Remus shot Sirius a look that said We? What we is this?

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked anxiously looking back and forth between the two of them. 

Padfoot shook his head, "No, of course not. It's just . . . well . . . er, you're not having dreams any more are you?" he asked tentatively.

Harry shook his head, relief evident in his features.

"Well, then, I don't think there's any real _need_ to return for the feast. Your friends are welcome to come visit over the summer or we can visit them," Sirius added, warming to the idea.

"But what about Hogwarts?" Harry wondered. "It's not so dangerous any more."

Padfoot stilled for a moment. "Harry we didn't know," he said hoarsely.

"Didn't know what?"

"About the danger. You didn't _tell _us about the troll or the stone or the fact that your scar had been hurting, bleeding or-or anything!" Sirius stood, pacing for a moment. "You forgot to mention that you'd nearly fallen off your broom in the first game."

He knelt beside the couch and took out a piece of parchment from his pocket. Harry's eyes widened as he recognized the letter he had written just in case. "I got your good-bye letter the morning after I brought you home," Sirius said in choked voice.

"Good-bye letter?" Remus echoed. He stormed over and snatched it from his friend's hand, reading the few words it had taken Harry over two hours and multiple drafts to write. "Oh, gods," he murmured, falling heavily into a nearby chair. He looked up at Harry with sorrow filled eyes. "Why didn't you tell us?" 

"Hedwig wasn't supposed to fly home unless--"

"Unless what? You didn't come back? Unless you died?" Remus said, his voice rising. Harry looked away, he couldn't stand to see the disappointment and concern there. 

Harry knotted his fingers in his lap. "I didn't want you to get hurt," he muttered.

Sirius and Remus shared an incredulous look. "Hurt?" Sirius asked "Us? How could knowing what was going on hurt us?"

"Last time-- last time I had a dream we all got pulled in together a-and you were captured and . . ."

Sirius took Harry's hands in his. "That wasn't your fault. Look at me," he demanded gently. Green eyes raised and met his. "That was _never_ your fault. If I had a choice and I knew what was going to happen before it did, I would have still gone with you to that other world. I would never _never_ ask you to do what you think have to do alone. Ever."

"But--"

"No, Harry," Sirius said firmly. "No. This is not something you do alone."

"I can't loose you," Harry whispered. "I can't loose either of you."

Remus got up and moved to sit beside Harry on the couch. "We have a choice remember? Just like your friends did," he said gesturing to the letter. "We all have a choice."

"But the bond--"

"Even without the bond, Sirius and I would not leave you to do what you still think is your task alone. We've talked about this before Harry. I know you understand it here," the werewolf said tapping the boy gently on the forehead. "Even if you don't really believe it _here_ just yet," he said brushing his hand against Harry's heart.

"No more keeping secrets," Sirius said lowly, running a hand up and down Harry's unbandaged arm. "We're supposed to be there for you, to help, to protect you. That's the honor I was given when your Dad asked me to be your godfather. You have to _promise us_ Harry Promise that you will never keep the fact that you are in danger from us ever again. You'll drive me crazy if you don't. I-I'll have to sneak in and spy on you. I'll end up going gray like Remus here," he joked weakly, ignoring Lupin's soft exclamation at the teasing. The corner of Harry's mouth began to twitch. 

"_Please_ Harry. You don't have to do this all by yourself."

Harry looked back down at his guardians' hands, firmly grasping his own. Weeks of nightmares, of seeing death, darkness, and demons snatch his family away from him before his very eyes, and before that the Mirror, the unlined, unburdened, happy people that had so captured him-- it was too much, too much to risk them, to drag them down with him, but he loved them, they were his family. 

And so he would hold them to him as long as he could, selfish as it was. And he would try and pretend to believe them when they told him that it wasn't his job to face the Dark alone. And he would keep the promise he was being asked to make and tell them everything from _This Moment On._

_("I must be there for Voldemort to fail. And . . . I must be there for him to succeed.")_

Sometimes Harry hated being able to See things.

He forced a smile, sad and wan and nodded. "A-all right. I promise."

The relieved hugs he received were enough, he told himself.

He had Padfoot and Moony and they had him.

That would always be enough.

*****

They apparrated to the entrance gates of Hogwarts. Setting Harry down on his feet, Sirius took the boy's small hand in his.

"I think we're just in time for the Feast," Padfoot said, eyeing the lit up Great Hall with a critical eye.

Swinging their joined hands between them they made there way to the entrance where they were met on the steps by the Headmaster and Hagrid.

The giant man burst into tears at the sight of the slight figure, still bandaged, colorfully bruised and scraped. He made as if to crush Harry in his arms but one sharp look from Sirius reminded him of Harry's injuries, and Hagrid settled for patting the boy gently on the head and asking anxiously for his forgiveness.

Harry gave it freely.

Ignoring Dumbledore who shooed the gamekeeper off inside, Sirius leaned over Harry, both hands on his godson's shoulders. "Moony and I will be at the train station tomorrow afternoon and we'll start summer off proper. Don't stay up too late partying," he teased.

"I won't, Padfoot," Harry promised.

"See you tomorrow then," he said pressing a kiss to that wild hair. Straightening, Sirius watched as Harry approached the Headmaster and enter Hogwarts at his side.

Only when the great doors closed did Sirius turn and walk back to the gates.

*****

"Quirrell's dead, but Voldemort's not gone is he?" Harry broke the silence as they walked side by side towards the Great Hall, the ancient powerful sorcerer and the magical child savior of the wizarding world.

"No, Harry he is not." Dumbledore sighed. "You have managed to delay his return to power only. Nicholas Flamel and I agreed that destroying the Stone was best, but there are no doubt other ways, other methods by which he will attempt to return."

"Mars is bright," Harry said softly to himself.

"Indeed." The Headmaster nodded in solemn agreement.

"Sir?"

"What is it my boy?"

Harry bit his lip. He had long wanted to ask this, but had felt the time was not right. But surely _now_ . . .

Taking a deep breath he plunged onward. "Voldemort killed a lot of people, and--and he remembered killing my parents . . . but, why?" Harry asked. "Why did he come after them? Why did they need to hide? Why didn't other people have Secret Keepers? Why was it so important that they remain hidden? He said- he said he would have let mum live. He said that they begged. Was it—did he want . . . did they die because of . . . me?"

The Headmaster stopped and peered down at the boy beside him. "I have never lied to you Harry and I will not lie to you now. What you ask--"

Harry steeled himself for the truth from his mentor. 

"--is the one thing I cannot answer. I have no answer to give you."

Harry blinked in shock, his stomach twisting into knots. _No answer? There must be an answer! There has to be a reason_! Professor Dumbledore always answered his questions. 

"Despite your immense skill, your experience, there are some things that only growing up can provide, answers you must seek yourself, answers that come with age. Some things are simply . . . unimportant until the time is ripe. I know no child likes to hear this, but when you are older Harry, you will at last be ready to know." The wizard cocked his head to one side. "Is there anything else you wish to ask me?"

("It burns, Master! It burns!")

(His reflection smiled and nodded at him and then put his hand in his pocket and drew out a blood red stone.)

("You are nothing more than an eleven year old nuisance, much like the rest of your classmates-- ignorant, spoilt, and incompetent.")

("_Let me . . . let me see him . . ._")

_("Not Harry! Please not Harry!")_

_No answers. He had no answers to give him._ And it hurt, it hurt more than Harry thought it would. Professor Dumbledore always had answers for him. He realized the Headmaster was awaiting an answer. Harry tried to force a smile. "Maybe later?"

"Of course, dear boy, of course. We shall have all summer," he said warmly. Dumbledore turned and they resumed their journey. "We'd best hurry. There is a House Cup to award. I don't think that they can hand it out without me present. It is in the job description I believe."

Harry blushed, remembering how Gryffindor was no doubt in last place still, but there was still the Quidditch Cup. "Professor? How-how did Gryffindor do in the final?"

"I afraid that your House team did not fair well in your absence." At Harry's downcast expression, he patted the boy on the shoulder with a smile. "There's always next year. And I believe that tonight's pudding is to be exceptionally tasty, so long faces are strictly forbidden."

"What about my exams?" Harry asked suddenly. Remus had been very very upset about this despite Padfoot's reassurances to Harry that the tests he hadn't taken yet didn't matter. Harry made it a point to ask, though he dreaded the thought of having to make up Potions. Alone. In the Dungeon. With Professor Snape. "I missed Transfiguration and Potions, but I can make them up," he said anxiously. 

Dumbledore laughed. "There's no need for that. I believe your professors were good enough to simply use your marks going into the final exam as your grade."

That meant that he had probably failed Potions, Harry thought with a sigh.

"I'm sure you'll advance with the rest of your classmates," The Headmaster assured him drolly, as if reading his mind.

They stopped at the doors.

"Are you ready Harry?" Professor Dumbledore asked softly.

_Was he?_

_Did it matter if he wasn't?_

"Yes," Harry said.

They entered together.

*****

"You'll owl this summer?" Hermione asked as she headed towards the portal and her muggle parents on the other side.

Harry nodded. "I will. Your parents won't mind Hedwig?"

"No. They find the wizarding world quite fascinating. Take care!" she called.

"Sounds like my dad only in reverse," Ron said after he'd extricated himself from his mum's frantic hugs and fussing about his fading bruises. "Hey, Harry, you'll have to come over some time." 

Harry smiled. "We can play Quidditch. And maybe-maybe you can come visit Moor House?" he suggested hopefully.

"Yeah and get away from the twins for a couple of days. They're right terrors at home." The redhead looked over the shorter boy, catching sight of someone in the crowd. "I think someone's trying to get your attention."

Harry turned and standing on tiptoes could make out Remus fighting his way through the crowd. He turned back to Ron. "I'd better go. Have a good summer Ron."

"Yeah, you too Harry. Don't get into any adventures without me," he said half jokingly, half in earnest.

"I won't," Harry promised solemnly.

"Good," Ron said in relief. "I'll write to you soon. Bye."

Harry waved his good-bye and then turned and started making his way quickly through the crowd of adults.

"Moony!" Harry called happily launching into a hug with the werewolf, wrapping his skinny yet seeker strong arms around his second godfather's waist. He closed his eyes and sighed as familiar arms came around him.

The farewell feast was a wonderful surprise and he would miss his friends, but Harry was ready for rest and summer, unworried, unburdened, free.

Remus pulled back smiling happily. Another set of arms snatched him from behind, pulling him against a warm chest. Harry looked up and saw Sirius staring down at him.

"Hello Harry," Sirius said softly.

"Hi Padfoot," Harry replied. "Guess what?"

"What?" he asked with an amused smile.

"Gryffindor won the House Cup after all," Harry announced with a pleased smile.

"Really?" Remus asked brightly. "Wonderful! Congratulations!"

"As if there was any doubt," Sirius said warmly. "Ready for summer?" the Marauder asked.

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Well then," Sirius said, all business. "We have only a short amount of time," he released Harry and took the boy's hand in his "and a lot of mischief to get into."

"What about homework?" Harry asked. He turned to look at Remus who had fallen into step beside him. "Professor Dumbledore said that my marks going into exams would count as my final grades for the exams I missed," he reassured the werewolf.

Remus smiled and smoothed the boy's hair. "That's good, I was worried that--"

"You are both crazy," Sirius informed them. "Who cares about exams? And homework? Phfft! Homework! _Forget_ about homework. We have much better things to be hexing and charming than practice spells."

"But Padfoot, I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school. I even have a letter," Harry said pulling the slightly bent envelope out of his cloak.

"Letter?" Sirius snatched the object, inspecting it briefly before tossing it into a nearby rubbish bin. "I don't remember any letter. Do you Moony?"

"Me? You're asking me?"

Catching Harry's slightly worried expression, Sirius ruffled his hair reassuringly. "As if you're likely to float one of us to the sky or something on accident," he scoffed. "What the Ministry doesn't know can't hurt them."

"Padfoot," Moony said warningly as they stepped onto the apparration platform.

"What? You think Harry here needs protection from underage misuse of magic? That's as ridiculous as _me_ needing it."

"That's hardly a compelling argument Padfoot."

Harry smiled as he listened to them argue back and forth. It was going to be a wonderful summer.

Fin.


End file.
